Brick & Mortar
by gre7g
Summary: Love and adventure in Azeroth. Originally written as a serial, so my apologies for the many, short chapters.
1. Part I: The Broken One

Episode 1: The Broken One

I seem to have acquired a traveling companion today. I'm not entirely sure how it happened. One moment I'm walking on the road alone, and then the next moment he was there beside me, matching my pace.

I was hiking the Grol'dom road at a good clip, trying to take advantage of the favorable weather while it lasted. The skies were overcast, but the rain they promised never came. Hardly a surprise, judging from the barrenness of the red desert that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The little water I had left would not last until morning, and I hadn't seen an oasis, a stream, or even a puddle in days. I suppose that I was not paying enough attention, and I let my concerns distract me. That was stupid. Durotar is war-torn land. Not paying attention here is asking for a quick death.

His sudden appearance startled me so much that I cried out like a new-born calf. I jumped backwards and raised my hammer over my head, ready to defend myself. My heart was racing.

He just stood there, motionless, staring at me.

I had never seen a man - a creature - such as him before. He looked tiny and frail. Had he stood up straight, he wouldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall. I doubt he weighed even a hundred pounds. His skin was pale and translucent, marked here and there with decay. His jaw hung at an unnatural angle that made my molars ache.

He looked like a dry husk, a dead casing that some sort of evil beast would one day crawl out of. He made my skin crawl.

The Forsaken. I had heard of these creatures, of course, but I'd never seen one. I'd never even met someone who had. My people did not openly discuss such abominations, so I knew little about them. Some plague, supposedly, had turned them into what they now are; the dead that refused to stay buried.

He stared at me, silently. He didn't breathe.

He smelled faintly of rot. It was not a pleasant smell, but it wasn't as horrible as I would have guessed. He smelled more like a dry, musty thing, than a corpse.

He continued to stare at me.

My eyes began to tear, and unlike him, I had to blink.

I found my voice, hoping it sounded confident. "Why are you staring at me?"

He didn't say anything.

A fat, black fly landed on his temple. It washed its face with its forelegs for a moment and then casually strolled across the creature's eyeball.

Something lurched in my stomach and I had to look away. "Are you headed to Razor Hill?"

He raised a bony finger and pointed the direction we had been walking. I took that as a "yes".

I started walking again, a little slower this time, a lot more cautiously. He fell in beside me, as if I had invited him along.

There is safety in numbers, but I didn't know anything about this guy. Although I'm sure I could lift him up with one hand, or break him in half with both, what if he planned to slit my throat in my sleep?

The Forsaken are not our friends. My people would have nothing to do with such creatures. They are, however, friends of the Orcs, and us Tauren owe everything to the Orcs. The Orcs saved us and helped us take back our homeland.

The Orcs are a great, noble people. Thrall, the leader of the Orcs, trusts the Forsaken. That mystifies the Tauren. How can you trust the dead?

We walked in silence until the day grew late.


	2. A Quiet Evening Together

Episode 2: A Quiet Evening Together

When dusk started to gather, I looked for a spot near the road where I could safely make camp. I found the perfect spot up a small rise, where a rock wall jutted up out of the sand. No one could sneak up behind me and I could keep an eye on the road. Plus, the wall would help to reflect back the heat of a campfire.

I had never been in a desert before this journey. This one was cursed. The sun was blazing hot all day and then the night was cold. I couldn't understand it. I missed the green grass and trees. I missed the sights and smells of Mulgore.

I set about collecting up firewood. There were no trees here, but there was plenty of small, gnarled bushes, so little scraps of wood were easy to find. They were all bone dry, as you might expect, so they would burn quick. Several armloads would be required to keep even a small flame burning though the night.

The Forsaken followed me around, a silent shadow as I collected wood. Eventually, I handed the pile to him and he carried it back to camp. He seemed willing to help out, but unable to guess what he should be doing.

I wondered if he was "all there" in the head or if parts of his brain had died along with his body. Some people say that they are evil creatures and that only hatred and the desire for revenge keeps them in this world. That's a pretty unsettling thought, if there is truth to it.

Did he even know he was dead?

An hour later, the fire was crackling and the sun had set. I broke the silence by talking to myself. My people are known for their stoicism, but I guess I'm more social than most. There's only so much silence I can take, and I hadn't spoken to anyone in days.

"Not much water left," I said. Only one of my water skins had anything left in it and it was nearly empty. "If I had my choice, I'd travel at night and try to bed down during the day."

Unfortunately, the moon was only a sliver and the desert was dark as pitch. I might have been willing to risk it, if the world was not at war. I didn't know how well the other races of Azeroth could see in the dark, but I suspected that some could see better than my people. No, things were bad enough. It would be better to press on at sunrise and hope that Razor Hill was near.

I worried about the girls for a moment and then pushed them from my mind. They were tough. They had just as much water as I had and they drank it more slowly. They would be fine.


	3. Introductions All Around

Episode 3: Introductions All Around

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the last apple. "Not much food left, either." The gracious thing to do would be to offer it to my new companion. He didn't seem to be carrying anything other than the knives at his hips. I bit into the apple and tried to eat quietly.

The stranger slipped silently from the circle of firelight, and was gone a good while before he reappeared. Without a word, he offered me a dead snake. It was a few feet long and strongly muscled. The head had been sliced cleanly away and the body still twitched a bit.

"Thanks."

I hadn't cooked a snake before, but I prepared it like any other small game; skinned, gutted, wrapped in some palm leaves that I had gathered when we crossed the Southfury river. I used a small pinch of the salt I kept hidden away in my pack. Soon the bundle was buried in coals and smelling delicious.

"My friends call me Brick." The stranger didn't reply. "Ya' know... 'cause I'm big, and red," I thumped my chest, "and solid."

The silence between us stretched thin. He wasn't much of a talker.

He wore interesting clothes. His cloth pants and shirt had been woven from some sort of fiber. They were so filthy and ragged that it was anyone's guess what color they had been originally or what sort of cloth they were made from. The stitches that held them together were small and fine; finer than the Tauren would ever use to stitch two hides together. I wondered if he had been buried in them.

Cloth was an uncommon item in my homeland. It took many hours to tan a hide and turn it into clothing, but this was nothing compared to effort it took to make cloth. And unlike the Forsaken's clothing, leather was warm and rugged. I never understood why anyone would make anything from cloth.

I wore only a light shirt and pants. The leather was untinted, a natural light- brown. The sinew stitches were large, but strong. Despite the dust from my travels, they were well-cared for and would last for generations. Summer had just started, so I hadn't packed anything warmer, besides a small blanket. I rubbed my arms and cursed the cold.

The Forsaken's feet were bare. Our hooves are strong, so my people have little need for shoes, but his feet looked quite squishy. It must hurt to walk on such absurd-looking things all day. And what purpose did all of those little toes serve?

Tired of our one-sided conversation, I asked him, "What's your name?"

He stared at me for a while; either remembering how to form words, or making sure that I was expecting a reply, I'm not sure. Then he answered.

I'm not sure how to describe his voice. It was breathy, but not like a lover whispering in your ear. It was more like air escaping from a crack in the earth.

Try to imagine walking through very dark, scary woods. A stab of cold air blows through the trees, rustling the leaves. Did you hear a voice on the wind, or was it your imagination that had pulled a single word out of nowhere?

"Johnny, huh? Well, that's a good name, Johnny."

I felt like an idiot, trying so hard to talk to this guy.

The snake was tasty enough. It was meat. It didn't have much flavor, but at least it didn't taste bad. Johnny seemed oblivious to my attempts to share it with him.

"We should sleep in shifts. That way we won't be helpless if someone sneaks up." Trying to talk to him was more exhausting than walking had been. "Wake me up in a few hours, okay? Then we can head out at first light. We must be getting close to Razor Hill by now."

I curled up in the soft sand, next to the fire, and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

I awoke at dawn. Johnny was still sitting in the same place, sitting in front of a fire that had burned out hours ago.

Sheesh.


	4. Razor Hill

Episode 4: Razor Hill

As it turns out, Razor Hill was only a couple miles from where we had stopped for the night. Had I only known, I could easily have pressed on, slept in a warm bed, and eaten something more tasty than headless snake.

Oh well. This trip was no vacation, I reminded myself.

Razor Hill was a tiny Orc town. It bustled with activity, but it lacked the "life" I had seen in all the other towns we had passed through so far. There were no children here. There was no laughter. The air was filled with the sounds of weapons being sharpened and oxen pulling supply carts.

"How can I help you?" said the Orc in the inn.

It was good to hear a friendly voice, and I've always had a soft spot for Orcs. They may be short, standing perhaps only six, or six and half feet tall, but you wouldn't call one puny. They have a sense of great energy and enthusiasm about them. They seem to take joy from everything they do.

Plus, and I hate to admit this, they remind me of the frogs we had back in Mulgore. It's not my fault. They have these wide mouths and green skin. When I look down on their little faces, I can almost hear the croak in their voices.

"Have you seen two gals? One has long braids and blue eyes, and the other with shorter, straight hair, and dark eyes?" I noticed that I was gesturing to indicate the length of their hair, and felt embarrassed. Why do people do that? I'm sure this guy knew what a long braid looked like. I suppose it could just be my discomfort in speaking Orcish.

The innkeeper just stared at me for a moment. "They... look like you?"

"No, silly!" I slammed my hand down on the table and let out a laugh. "They're girls!" This guy was a riot.

The innkeeper made a clicking sound out the side of his wide mouth and went back to wiping tables. "No Taurens been through here in months."

"Damn." I flopped down hard on a bench, and the wood groaned a bit. The innkeeper made a funny face at the sound. "We got separated on the way here," I explained. We were looking through nests for eggs, and a big group of those pig-faced people, got between us."

"Quillboars," the innkeeper growled. "Hate 'em."

"Yeah, they didn't look friendly. There were too many to fight, so we ran off in different directions." I sighed, ashamed. "I spent a couple days, trying to work my way around to where I saw them last, but those, those Quillboars were everywhere. When my water ran low, I had to go on without 'em."

"Don't feel bad, son," he said, slapping a meaty hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure they'll be fine. You headed to Orgrimmar?"

I nodded. "Conscription. The gals and I are here to serve the Horde."

"Well, then they'll surely pass through here. Hang around a couple days and I'm sure they'll catch up."


	5. Pirates

Episode 5: Pirates

I walked out, into the dusty street and kicked a stone with my hoof. I thought I heard a quiet rumbling, like distant thunder, and I noticed a column of smoke rising far to the east.

It wasn't like I had anything better to do, so I climbed a watchtower to get a better view. There was an older, battle-scarred Orc standing at the top of the tower, focused intently on the smoke. "Damn it," he was muttering.

Sergeant Furl Scornbrow, as I later learned he was called, stunk strongly of smoke. He was responsible for all of Razor Hill and he took the stress out on his lungs, beating them into submission with cigar after cigar.

"What's going on out there?" I asked him.

"Pirates," he spat, "attacking Benedict's men."

"Gosh." I had heard of pirates, but never seen them before. I had never even seen the sea.

I stared out at the smoke for a bit. It's hard to guess how far away it was. At least a day's walk, I presumed. "Will they be okay?"

"Sure as hell hope not," he grunted.

I was confused, for sure, but didn't want to look dumb, so I didn't say anything. Eventually he turned to me and explained.

"Three days ago, the Maiden's Virtue harbored where those pirate ships are now and resupplied Benedict's men." He ground his teeth and shouted, "The goddamn Maiden's Virtue!

"The Maiden's Virtue ain't no damn supply frigate. The only reason Stormwind would send the Maiden's Virtue would be if it carried something important. Maps! Orders! Who knows? Something more important than just food and weapons.

"Now pirates are helping themselves to those supplies. Good for them, I say. But this is our chance! If we attacked now, while they're still nursing their wounds, we could grab those orders and get them to Thrall."

The war chief, himself, wow. It was hard to believe I was having a conversation that involved Thrall in anything but a historical context. It was almost like I was seeing history unfold before my eyes.

He hung his head. "But where are my men?" He pointed to the south, "Pacifying the Kolkar. Damn it."

We went back to staring at the smoke.

"So you don't really need to fight them, right? You just need someone to sneak in there while they're preoccupied."

The sergeant turned, ever so slowly toward me. He took in my broad shoulders and noted that I was ducking slightly to fit beneath the canopy overhead. "You think you can sneak in, under Benedict's nose and steal his orders?" His voice dripped sarcasm.

"No sir, but Johnny's sneaky. You could steal those orders without anyone ever seeing you; couldn't you?"

Scornbrow clearly hadn't noticed Johnny standing there. He spun to face him and then jumped back in surprise. Johnny just pointed a finger out towards the smoke.

"All right! We'll be back with those orders before you know it!"


	6. Covert Ops

Episode 6: Covert Ops

I grabbed travelling supplies from innkeeper Grosk, and asked him to keep an eye out for the gals. In minutes, Johnny and I were underway; with little preparation, and even less planning.

Charged with purpose, we made great time. We hiked through the desert, East, past small ranches and smokehouses, into increasingly rugged terrain. I was surprised to see a few orchards, nestled within some craggy ravines.

We came over a crest and I smelled what could only be the ocean. When it was described to me, I couldn't imagine how something could smell "salty," but that was exactly right. It smelled cool, salty, and slightly fishy. I wished I could see it, but the light was failing fast.

Besides, as I had said before, this was no vacation.

The fires were extinguished before nightfall, and the columns of smoke faded, but by then, we had zeroed in on our destination; the ruined stronghold of Tiragarde Keep.

Benedict's men did not build this place. I suppose their ancestors might have. It must have been a great accomplishment at the time! The structure was made of grey stone and great planks of timber, neither of which could be found nearby in this red desert.

Orcish structures, of which I had seen many in the past few weeks, were short, intimate buildings built around a central cook-stove. They were "natural" buildings made only with local resources - totally unlike this hold.

Likewise, the pirates had not destroyed this base. Sure, their attack may have burned some of the wooden interiors that the men had added to the ancient stone construction, but the real demolition must have happened centuries earlier.

Johnny and I drew close as the light failed. The moon was waxing, but not much more of a sliver than it had been the night before. It didn't provide enough light for me to see, so I put one hand on Johnny's back. It was cold and dead, making my skin crawl, but at least it was reassuring that I had not been separated from him. I advanced only when he did. Apparently he could still see something.

Soon, we were within sight of the hold. Torches burned here and there, and a few campfires were lit. I searched the darkness for patrols and spotted a couple near the building. It was anyone's guess how many I couldn't see.

Our destination was easy to guess. The outlying buildings were little more than archaeological remnants. The wall that once guarded the hold was breached in so many places that it actually benefited us more than them. There were countless dark corners to hide in; and too few soldiers to guard them all against attack.

I could see the men better now. They were short too, nearly the height of orcs, but only a fraction as wide. Their skin was pale. They looked like a lot like Johnny. I guessed that these must be the people who survived the plague.

We crept as close as I dared. Despite my best efforts, moving silently is not one of my strengths. Johnny didn't seem to react, but I was cringing every time one of my hooves kicked a rock free.

"Wait," I whispered, "if I go any further, they'll hear me or see me. Do you think you can sneak ahead and find whatever it is the Maiden's Virtue left?" I felt terrible abandoning Johnny. I wanted to protect him from these people, but if we both went, it would only jeopardize the mission.

Johnny, in his understated way, pointed ahead, towards the hold, and disappeared into the darkness. I tried to spot him, but it was hopeless. He was a natural.

Come on... come on... you can do it. You can do it, Johnny...

Suddenly, I heard two voices from the darkness behind me. I couldn't understand their language. It didn't sound like casual conversation and it wasn't a shouted alarm, but it was definitely directed my way.


	7. Assault on Tiragarde Keep

Episode 7: Assault on Tiragarde Keep

I must have been spotted by a patrol! They were coming closer to investigate. I gripped the shaft of my hammer tightly, and prepared to defend myself, but it was hopeless. It was far too dark out here for me to see.

I knew that I should try to run away from the hold and lead the guards away from Johnny, but I was at too much of a disadvantage in the dark. My only hope was to run towards him, into the torchlight.

I set off towards the hold as quickly and as quietly as I could manage. I tried to stick to the darkest shadows, and as far away from the men as I could. I probably had a good lead on the patrol, but I knew they would be close behind me as I rounded the corner into the dim torchlight of the keep.

Today's battle must have raged right where I was standing. The dead of the defenders and the pirates as well littered the ground. At least there were no living guards here... yet.

A silent figure stepped out into the torchlight. The light hit his face and reflected off translucent skin.

Johnny pointed towards an alcove and I backed in as far as I could. I lifted my hammer over my head and worked to slow my breath. I tried to be as silent as possible. Thank goodness the ceiling was high! I don't think I could fight in an Orcish building if I had to.

Johnny stood in the middle of the room and stared out into the darkness with both daggers at the ready... watching... waiting.

Suddenly, he collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. I gasped in surprise. I did not see what had cut him down. He lay there, motionless among the dead. I wanted to call out to him, but resisted.

A moment later, two guards rushed in. It had to be the patrol that had spotted me earlier. They were a man and a woman, dressed in heavy leather armor. Each had a short sword in hand. It didn't look good; two to one now, and I was unarmored. I hoped they didn't see me.

Their voices were quiet, but I had no problem hearing them in the silence of the keep. Look there, check there, I guessed they were saying. Their words were harsh and foreign.

My pulse pounded in my ears and sweat rolled down my arms. I tightened my grip around the hammer's handle.

The hammer was no thing of beauty. In fact, it was little more than an oak log on a stick. My father and I had made it two months before, when I learned that I would be leaving for Orgrimmar. It was a good day; the sun was shining, the sky was clear, the conversation natural. I felt closer to him than I had in a long time.

When the hammer was ready, I had wanted to carve some images into its sides. My people don't have a written language - we say that anything worth telling someone is worth saying in person - but we believe in the power of pictures. He told me not to.

He said, "This weapon suits you well. It may not be fast, and it may not be graceful, but it uses what the Tauren have in great abundance; pure strength. Keep it close and it will protect you... all the way to Orgrimmar."

I remember that seeming like a strange thing to say.

"Today was a wonderful day, and we'll think back on it fondly while you are away, but this hammer is just a tool. Do not get attached to it just because it reminds you of home.

"When you get to Orgrimmar, they will be able to provide better weapons for you; better than anything we have for you in this humble village. And that is what you should use, the best weapons you can find. Use them to protect your fellow soldiers. Use them to protect yourself.

"That way you can return to us in one piece, when all this fighting is past."

He was a very quiet man - even by Tauren standards - but when he chose to speak, his words were well thought out. I hoped he was right, and that the hammer would protect me this day.


	8. A Lopsided Battle

Episode 8: A Lopsided Battle

Suddenly, a blade flashed in the torchlight and Johnny cut easily through the man's calf muscle. He wasn't dead at all! Well, no more than usual, at least.

The guard gasped in pain and began to crumble to the ground, unable to support his weight on the ruined leg. This was my opportunity, and I knew it.

I leaped forward, toward the female guard and the hammer arced slowly through the air. I know it's a cliche, but time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. I saw her face, her surprised expression, the simple necklace she wore. I smelled her hair.

She turned, and in one well-polished move, she brought her sword up over her head at the proper angle to deflect the blow. She did not hesitate. Clearly she had far more training than I did.

Had her attacker been more like herself, the parry would have worked flawlessly. A sword like her own would have slid harmlessly along hers and left her weapon poised to strike back.

But I was not like her, not in the least. I stand nearly nine feet in height and weigh 800 pounds. I'm not trying to brag here, but I'd like you to be able to picture it. My biceps were as big around as her chest. Either of my fingers on one hand were as thick as her arms.

The hammer continued to arc towards her. If I had to take a guess, I'd say that it weighed about the same as she did.

The oak hit steel, and as one they crashed down on her head, on her spine, her chest, torso. The hammer came to rest with a sickening thud and I stood there, stunned at what I had done.

I had killed before, for food, but I'd never hurt another person. I'd never killed anyone before.

I looked up as Johnny was pulling his dagger from the man's back. He had dispatched the guard with as little emotion as he did everything.

The battle had been brief. We listened, but heard nothing. The noise had not alerted the others, somehow. Perhaps they had mistaken it for something that had fallen, and not realized it had been combat.

Johnny pointed to the alcove I had been hiding in and then in the opposite direction.

I nodded. "I'll wait there until you return."


	9. The Sea

Episode 9: The Sea

The rest of the evening had been a blur. Johnny left, he came back, we crept out of the hold and to the beach.

We headed north along the beach. This led us no closer to Razor Hill, but it put some distance between us and the hold, and the walking was easy, even in the pitch darkness.

I stopped to rest now and then - there was no sign we were being followed - and let the surf roll in over my hammer. It would be light soon, and if any gore still clung to the weapon, well, I didn't need to see it.

At dawn, I sat and watched the sun come up over the water. I'm sure it was a beautiful sight, the endless sea stretching on as far as the eye could see, but it was lost on me. All I could see was the guard's last moments.

"I can't stop thinking how unfair it was for us to kill those guards." Johnny stared at me blankly and let me talk, as usual. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he was a great listener.

"I know they would have killed us if we hadn't killed them. I know that we had to kill them to accomplish our goal... but was it fair? What did we kill them for?

"When I was younger, I imagined what it must be like to be in the army. I didn't dream of death and glory, but I always thought it would be more noble than this. I dreamed of helping to repel conquering forces. I imagined we would kill to protect; if not to protect our people directly, then to prevent a foe from attacking them.

"But what did we do this night? We killed... defenders. I guess they were in Durotar, and I suppose they could have been planning to mount an attack... but we don't know that, do we? We killed them over... over... parchment." I snatched the scrolls from Johnny and unrolled them on the beach.

Two of the sheets were maps of places I could not recognize. The land was unfamiliar and the language meant nothing to me. The rest were just scribbles; their written words. "I sure hope these were the right things; that this is what the Maiden's Virtue delivered."

I rolled the documents back up and turned to face Johnny. "Did we do the right thing?" He stared blankly at me, but I wanted to know. He had to have some opinion. Those people were his people, before the plague, at least. Did he feel anything about having killed his own countrymen? "What do you think?"

Johnny realized that I expected an answer.

He shrugged.


	10. Return to Razor Hill

Episode 10: Return to Razor Hill

I got some sleep on the beach while Johnny stood watch. Then we climbed the cliffs overlooking the ocean and travelled West through the rugged terrain. There were no roads here, no paths, only tiny game trails.

We saw no people here, no houses.

The going was much slower than it had been before, the mood more solemn; but at least the journey was not as urgent. In fact, it took us two full days to find our way back to Razor Hill. I was glad we had plenty of water and food this time.

I climbed the watchtower and handed the plans to Furl Scornbrow.

"Haha! I thought you two were vulture snacks for sure!" He unrolled the scrolls quickly across a low table, and studied each closely. "You had no troubles, I see!"

"No... nothing..." My voice trailed off.

Scornbrow marched briskly back down the tower and we followed him to the inn. There he grabbed a young Orc with a long, black pony tail, and pulled him away from the table. "You will ride to Orgrimmar and hand these to Thrall himself. You will stop for no one and no thing."

"Aw, sarge, I'm eating breakfast," the rider complained.

Furl Scornbrow took the rider's helmet off of the table, and slid the food into it; using it as a bowl. "Eat as you ride." There was no mistaking Furl's tone.

The rider saluted, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Brick. Thank you, Johnny."

"You're welcome, sir," I replied for both of us.


	11. Beads on a String

Episode 11: Beads on a String

The innkeeper, Grosk, I think his name was, greeted us warmly. "Conquering heroes, I see!"

"Thank you, sir," I replied. I didn't feel like a hero. I still felt glum from the other night. I felt like a big, stupid brute.

"Let me get you some breakfast," he croaked happily and turned back to the low, Orcish cook grill.

My stomach rumbled and I flopped down hard on the bench that Furl's rider had vacated. Ow. I had never really looked, but I guessed that Orcs must have tiny butts. Sitting on the ground was much more comfortable than this bench.

Johnny sat across the table from me. I don't know why. After four days together, I had yet to see him eat anything. Could he even eat, with his jaw hanging there like that?

Around his neck, he wore a simple necklace that I had seen a few days before. "Aw, that's just not right," I groaned. I reached across the table and pulled the necklace over his head.

I felt bad enough about having killed the woman, the last thing I needed was for Johnny to be walking around with a blood-stained trophy. Johnny just stared at me, unreadable as always.

Despite his repulsiveness, I was starting to find that I cared about him. He had been one of those people, once. He hadn't asked to be like he was; a monster wandering aimlessly, looking for a purpose in a foreign land. I could see why my people would think him evil. Perhaps he really was, but it seemed that Johnny, at least, was just... lost.

I picked at the dry blood on the necklace with a fingernail. It had been a pretty thing once, a string of hand-made beads on a leather thong.

I'd watched the girls make beads like these. They would roll clay into balls and poke a hole through them with a twig, and then leave them to dry. Later, they would coat the beads in pigments and bury them at the base of a hot campfire. When they cooled, the pigments turned glassy, pretty. The colors cracked through the balls like vivid spiderwebs.

I would wash the necklace and try to clean it up. Perhaps one day, we could return it...

"The girls!" I nearly shouted.

"Yes, yes, they passed through here shortly after you left," Grosk said as he brought a plate to the table.

I leaped to my feet and grasped the innkeeper under each arm, lifting him up to my face. "They did? Where are they?"

Grosk sputtered in surprise. "I... I told them what you told me to tell them... that you'd meet them in Orgrimmar..."

"That's not what I told you at all!" I dropped the little innkeeper on his ass and flopped down hard on the bench, splintering it. "I said to tell them to wait for me here, and that we'd go on to Orgrimmar together."

Stupid Grosk. Stupid bench. Stupid Durotar. Stupid Quillboars. Stupid eggs, and stupid me for getting separated from them in the first place. They were my tribe and I felt so alone without them.

People think of the Tauren as solitary because the tribes keep to themselves, but each tribe was a family. No one was ever really alone in an utankan, a Tauren encampment.

The innkeeper patted my shoulder with a meaty hand, "Oh, I'm sorry, son. I told them you were okay and they seemed relieved. Don't worry, the road to Orgrimmar is well-patrolled. They'll be fine. You and the... your friend... will meet up with them there."


	12. Part II: Izzy the Ugly Kodo

Episode 1: Izzy the Ugly Kodo

I cleaned up the necklace the best I could in a water trough and wrapped it carefully in my bedroll to keep it safe. Johnny and I were waiting outside the inn while Innkeeper Grosk prepared provisions for our journey to the capital.

"Sergeant Scornbrow said that Orgrimmar is due north of here. The road forks a bit, but that it's pretty simple to navigate. The wide, well-travelled path leads directly there," I explained to Johnny. He was looking at me, but it was anyone's guess whether he understood what I was telling him.

I hoped that interacting with Johnny could help bring him out of his shell. Part of me rationalized that it would be far safer to travel with a companion who was capable of independent thought. But another part of me, deep within my furry chest, hated to see something that was as broken as the Forsaken.

"He says that the road is pretty safe. So if we travel light, and try to make some progress at night, perhaps we can catch up..."

"Tauren!" Grosk shouted as he emerged from the stables. I grabbed my pack and jogged to his side. The innkeeper carried a large bundle of supplies under one arm and in the other hand he held the lead on the ugliest kodo I had ever seen.

Kodos are wonderful creatures. The other races of Azeroth don't appreciate these gigantic beasts, but they are a central element in the Tauren way of life. A good eight foot tall at the shoulder, the bull kodo is capable of carrying or pulling a heavy load at tremendous speeds without tiring.

Kodos look a bit like a rhinoceros, except that their shoulders are enormous and their bodies are deeply barrel-chested. They also have large, dinosaurian tails that sweep down, near the earth. Their skin is leathery and wrinkled; and the single horn on their wide snout can take a number of different shapes, depending on their gender and breed.

This specimen was most notable for its age. My great grandfather could have ridden this beast when he was just a calf. Her skin was pasty and cracked; her eyes clouded; her nose caked with dry mucous. If she had the vitality, I think she would make a bee line for the great kodo graveyard.

"Wow, Mr. Grosk, that's quite the mount you have there, sir." I tried not to laugh.

"Izzy? Oh yeah, she's a regular fixture on the road between Orgrimmar and Razor Hill. She's been making the journey for nearly thirty years now."

Thirty years? I had no idea kodos could live so long.

"Here's some food for the two of you. Should be enough to last you," he explained. "If not, you can break into the supplies in the cart. Make that a last resort, okay? I don't want to deal with complaints that Orgrimmar didn't get enough smoked Bloodbelly."

"Sir, this is an awful lot of food for a three day walk. We thought if we pushed it, we could maybe make it in two..."

"Six days." The innkeeper stared sternly at me. "Don't you push Izzy to go any faster than that. She ain't no plainstrider. Are you Iz? No." He lovingly patted her drooly muzzle.

Grosk made some cooing baby-noises to the ancient kodo and it looked eagerly and blindly up. The innkeeper fed her a karras root he held in his teeth. With any other kodo, this would be a refreshingly endearing gesture. But with Izzy, the effect was just nauseating.

"Cart? No, we're trying to catch up..."

The innkeeper pointed a green, sausage-finger in my face. "You're here to serve the horde, right?" I nodded with the tiniest of gestures. "Then you're starting today. Bring these supplies with you." He tucked our bag of provisions in a corner of the cart. "Take Izzy to the stables in the Valley of Honor. Stable master there, a red-haired fellow by the name of Xon'cha, will take care of her and send her back this way with lumber from Ashenvale.

"He'll give you a few silver for your trouble. Make sure you get paid," he stressed. "That troll will take advantage of anyone if you give him half a chance." He wandered back towards the inn, muttering to himself (in the crudest of terms) about the seemingly-remote possibility of Xon'cha's Goblin parentage.

"But..." I gestured helplessly at Grosk's back with Izzy's lead. Then he was gone, leaving only myself, Johnny, Izzy, and a cart stacked high with supplies.


	13. Full Stink Ahead

Episode 2: Full Stink Ahead

Johnny and I set out for Orgrimmar with Izzy in tow. "Tow" isn't really the correct word. You didn't have to tug on her lead. You just had to carry it. If you let go, she would gladly stop and wait for you to take hold of it once more.

Innkeeper Grosk had little to worry about us pushing Izzy to go faster than she had intended (I would call this a stroll, at best). Pulling on the rope only made her stop and snort in annoyance.

Annoying a kodo was a bad move indeed. Even an old, frail gal such as Izzy could kill without even working up a sweat. But I doubted Izzy could be pushed that far. She knew her job and just wanted to do it.

So I walked slowly with Izzy's lead in hand. It didn't take too long to learn the pace that Izzy had in mind.

Johnny was following us, walking aimlessly behind that cart. What sort of creature chooses to walk behind a cart, and barefoot, no less? Someone who doesn't mind the smell and navigating around fresh, steaming dung piles, I supposed. I shook my head in frustration.

"Unless you're guarding the rear," I yelled back to him, "why don't you walk up here?" Johnny stared at me for a long while. Perhaps he was wondering whether I was talking to him? Eventually he picked up the pace and joined us at the front.

Well, it was a start.

# # #

The trip didn't exactly go quickly, but it was largely uneventful. I tried not to obsess over missing the girls in Razor Hill. That they were safe was the important thing; even if my detour had cost us a few days together.

In reality, I had no assurances that we would even be stationed together. We could be shipped to different continents, never to see each other again, if that was our fate.

The road to Orgrimmar was known as the Red Cathedral. The road passed through the longest natural canyons that I had ever seen. The well-worn path extended deep through the desert's red sandstone. In places, large curving rocks overhung the canyon; not generally turning the road into a tunnel, but giving dim stretches of the way an eerie, almost otherworldly calm.

That was, until the wind blew. When the breeze and canyon aligned, it would channel a blinding river of dust that was so thick that even Izzy would close her eyes and wait motionless for it to pass.

On the plus side, I did get to meet a variety of travellers on their way to and from Orgrimmar. We were the slowest of them all, so no one socialized with us long. They had places to be and could not bear Izzy's glacial pace. We saw no other Tauren or Forsaken. Clearly, we were outsiders. I made an effort to at least hail them all - to set them at ease, and show that I meant no harm.

Travellers headed to Orgimmar were generally hungry for news. Those returning from the capital would stop and share what they had heard. Everyone was on edge and wanted to be assured that no enemy troops had been spotted nearby, waiting to ambush them as they travelled. They wanted to know that their farms and families would still be waiting for them when they returned home.

Most of the tales meant little to me since I did not yet know the people and places involved. I listened carefully to the things I was told and relayed them to others when asked.

The only story whose authenticity I could affirm was my own. I told the curious of pirates attacking Tiragarde Keep, and how Razor Hill had rushed Benedict's maps and secret documents to Thrall.

I took no credit for the feat, and Johnny did not elaborate on the details I had neglected. I was glad I could help, but hardly proud of what I had done.


	14. Interesting Travellers

Episode 3: Interesting Travelers

Most of those headed up and down the Red Cathedral were Orcish peasants; farmers and fishermen headed to Orgrimmar to sell what they had and purchase what they needed.

I did, however, spot a few noteworthy travellers that were quite unlike the rest.

The most surprising of all was a gigantic creature that flew high overhead. It spun lazy circles in the air when it drew closer, dropping ever lower until the rider could get a good look at the three of us.

Unfortunately, the midday sun prevented me from getting a good look at the man or beast that was riding the creature. The flier itself, what I thought to be a dragon at first, was instead the most fantastic of chimera.

It had the body of a lion, the wings of a bat, and the tail of a scorpion. There was no way to guess just how large the beast must have been, but if that was indeed a man on its back, then its wingspan could be no less than thirty feet!

I gripped my hammer as it studied us, fearful of how we could defend ourselves from such a mighty creature, but it flew off without ever nearing the ground.

How the rider managed to stay aboard while it dipped and twisted was quite mysterious. I should hope that I never have the chance to find out firsthand.

Later that same day, two riders sped past us on their way from the city. They rode high on some manner of brightly-colored bird. At first I thought that they had somehow tamed plainstriders, but apart from this being impossible, these birds seemed far more light and elegant than those clumsy beasts.

Even more fascinating than the birds were the riders themselves. They were tall and thin, like river reeds. Their skin was pale and their ears were long and straight, like the necks of giraffes.

They did not stop to talk, nor even respond to my hail, but I saw them well enough to know that they could only be blood elves.

I had always thought that Thalassians were myth. Utankan elders told us that these dark creatures were immortal. They said that unless killed in battle, these reclusive elves could live for thousands of years.

When I was a calf, I would imagine what it must be like to watch the world change; to see nations rise and fall, wars come and go, and yet be unaffected by it all.

One of my earliest memories was that of meeting my grandfather, Huln Thunderhoof. I remember him cupping my face in one hand and smiling up at my mother. He was a great man, my grandfather. He was well-respected by all. He was also extremely long-lived.

My mother said that I reminded her of him in many ways; the smell of my ears, the shape of my face. I would wonder if I would live long like he did. To be able to see and remember sixteen different summers in a single lifetime! That alone must seem like an eternity.

But to a blood elf, a Tauren's life span must be like the blooming of a flower. Knowing generations of Tauren would be like walking past trees on a forest trail.

A shudder ran down my spine when I realized what they were. It reawakened all those old memories to learn that they do in fact, exist.

They were dressed in some sort of fancy robes, tinted a dark, strong color. The cloth glistened in the light, like water.

Despite myths to the contrary, us Tauren can see different colors, but many colors that Orcs claimed are different looked the same or similar to us. And when I have reflected upon what I have seen, and shared my stories with others, I have found that the colors I saw were often gone and that all that remained in my memories were light, dark, vivid, or dull.

Such things seem trivial, regardless, when you can remember every sound and every smell that went along with them.

It's ironic that Orcish lacks the words to truly express what I do remember!

We encountered the journey's final notable traveller just a few miles before Orgrimmar itself. He was a tiny green creature by name of Rezlak. He drove an enormous cart piled high with mysterious items.

Rezlak was about the size of my fist, and sat in a ball of roughly the same shape; his knees up around his ears. He dressed in fine cloth and showed far too many pointed teeth when he laughed. Despite the difference in our sizes, I felt the most comfort when I was over a hammer's length away from the hairless, bat-eared thing.

Everyone has heard of Goblins and there was no mistaking what he was. He seemed like an angry animal who was looking for an opportunity to bite. And I don't mean like a creature who has been backed into a corner. No. It was more like he wished to snatch a chunk of meat and then flee, so he could enjoy it in private.

Rezlak acted as friendly as possible, but there was no warmth in his eyes. Only when he was certain that I was unwilling to trade the contents of my cart for a few choice items from his, would he ride ahead and leave us in his dust.

Goblins are famous for their neutrality. They will take no side in any conflict because they do not wish to lose customers. In fact, they take great glee in selling arms to both sides of every conflict. They will buy and sell regardless of the political climate, but nothing inflates prices like war.

It is whispered that half of the world's hostilities were kindled or fanned by goblin meddling.

Rezlak confirmed what I had heard about Goblins. They're scary little people, and you can rely on them to sell you what you need. But never consider one a friend. They are extremely dangerous to anyone with an empty purse.

Paranoia is a survival skill for Goblins, and nothing makes a Goblin more paranoid than poor people. After all, there's more than a few people in Azeroth who - for right or wrong - blame their lot in life on the dealings with Goblins.

Dangerous people.

Dangerous people who would love a little revenge.


	15. The Gates of Orgrimmar

Episode 4: The Gates of Orgrimmar

Orgrimmar is built into a desert canyon at the northernmost reaches of Durotar, just before the green forests of Ashenvale.

After the Third War, Thrall and his orcs walled up both entrances to the canyon with giant blocks of Ashenvale granite, and turned the sandstone into a defensible fortress.

I passed through the gates late on the morning on the sixth day. A few city defenders stood outside the outer portcullis and scrutinized those entering the city.

They were the most serious Orcs I had met to date. They did not respond to my hail and they shared no news. Although I didn't fear them - I had done nothing wrong - their depressing demeanor left a sinking feeling in my gut.

Was this what my future held? Would I spend the rest of days as miserable as these people looked? I felt like I was the marching condemned, walking slowly to my doom.

Passing through the inner portcullis helped lift some of the gloom. Orgrimmar was unlike anything I could ever have imagined. I had never seen a city before and I was unprepared for just how many people could even live in a single place.

Although the Tauren (at Thrall's urging) have built a capital city, few Tauren live in what Orcs would even call a village. Our utankan roam Mulgore with the seasons; gathering different plants as they come in season and following the herds of tallstriders and kodos as they migrate. When my utankan would cross paths with another, we would often hold great celebrations (nokee zhi), and our families would merge for a few short, glorious days.

Those few occassions were the most people I had ever seen in a single place. I would guess no more than 75 adults and a handful of calves, gathered together around a giant bonfire.

Before me, in the Valley of Strength alone, I could see hundreds of Orcs. In every direction, there were people going about their business. There were shopkeepers haggling with customers, barkers enticing passers-by, soldiers laughing, auctioneers calling out bids, and beggars begging.

The cacophony was tremendous. People were shouting, beasts of burden were braying, and somewhere a blacksmith's hammer was slicing through the noise like a salmon through the rapids. I had to lay my ears tightly back against my head to get any relief at all.

But even more overwhelming than the noise and conjestion, was the smell! The stench of Orgimmar hit my nose like a mallet. After my first lungful of the hot, pungent air, I thought I might never smell again.

Don't get me wrong, I'll be the first to admit that a Tauren encampment can get pretty ripe. It can. This is never more true than in the early spring after the utankan has been stationary for all the long winter months. The Tauren even joke amongst themselves that it is the smell of "civilization" - even more than the migrating herds - that encourage the tribes to move.

But unlike the utankan, Orgrimmar did not have the luxury of relocating every couple of months. And worse yet, the ramparts at both ends of the canyon limited how much fresh air would blow in. Without a doubt, none of Orgrimmar's denizens had room to complain about how the Forsaken smell.

A city guard pointed me towards the Valley of Honor, but he needn't have bothered. Izzy knew where she was headed.

I marvelled at the wonders before me. The Tauren live in tents and I had seen plenty of Orcish buildings, but I had never imagined anything like this. There were dozens of buildings in the valley; they were built up from the valley floor, perched on ledges, and dug into the soft, red, sandstone cliffs. They were made from all manner of materials; limestone slabs, red sandstone, clay tiles, rough-hewn timbers, and even painted animal hides.

There were ramps, ladders, and even series of handholds dug into the walls to allow people to access the higher rows of buildings. There were even steps cut into the cliff all the way to the very top of the canyon wall. I could only guess how much more of the city was up, out of sight.

The strangest thing of all were a handful of buildings that were impossibly tall. At first, I wondered if they housed giraffes here, inside the city, but then I realized that I was seeing buildings actually built on top of other buildings. How they managed such a feat was a mystery to me. There had to be some sort of platform inside for upper people to stand on. Or something similar, I figured.


	16. Trolls!

Episode 5: Trolls!

Izzy and I trekked out of the valley and into a more narrow canyon known as The Drag. Various awnings overhung The Drag and kept it cool and comfortable. There was less commotion here and I let my ears relax.

The drag contained many, many similar buildings, all packed end to end, and stacked row on row. I guessed that this was a residential section of Orgrimmar.

A lone Orcish woman slowly walked The Drag, calling out her wares. The rest of the foot traffic walked along in silence.

From The Drag we travelled through more gates, to the Valley of Honor. The Valley of Honor was far more peaceful, still. The air rang with distant steel from various swordsmen learning their craft, but it was largely free of yelling.

A large, shallow lake dominated the valley, and a few Trolls fished from the far bank with poles.

Trolls! Wow. They were exactly as they had been described; tall and lanky. Their skin was dark and colored with blues. But most striking of all was the Troll tusks.

Orcs have tusks too. They're a couple inches long and jut up from the corners of their lower jaw. They bracket their faces nicely. An Orc without tusks would just look wrong. But Troll tusks are another thing entirely!

Troll tusks are wild things. A foot or more of ivory that swoops up, down, or even straight out. I have no idea how their scrawny little necks manage to hold up the weight. I bet if you grabbed one of those things good and tight, a Troll would be hard-pressed to do anything about it.

Now us Tauren, we don't have silly tusks. We have big, beautiful horns that grow to be several feet long. And they're not for decoration either. No sir. We have long horns and big enough neck muscles to actually use them too.

If you grabbed a Tauren's horns and he didn't want you to, well, it could very well be the last mistake you ever made.

"Izzy gir! Da be an ditty ditty gir. Wanna da Mista Grosk ship na wit mi?"

A troll with bright red hair had walked up to me and taken Izzy's lead. "Ah! You must be the stable master, Xon'cha."

The Troll stared at me a moment before responding, "I an I Xon'cha. Dese de stores keepa Grosk ship na dit me."

Now it was my turn to stare. The Troll's accent was very thick. His Orcish sounded no better than mine. I don't speak Zandali and I really doubted he spoke Taurahe. He tried to lead Izzy off, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

I took my hammer and bag out of the cart and slung them over my shoulders. "Grosk said you'd pay me for bringing Izzy here."

His gaze moved between me and the Kodo for a moment, trying to decypher what I had said. He turned to leave again so I cleared my throat loudly, stopping him in his tracks. I put out my hand, palm up.

"Joosta. I an money do be an now." He reached in his purse and counted out a small number of silver coins and a few copper ones. I didn't actually need to be paid for the trip since I was coming this way anyhow, but if the job normally pays, then why shouldn't I get my fair share? I was nobody's "chump".

I poked the coins around with a finger and pretended to count them. I can count, of course, but I didn't really know how much the job was supposed to pay in the first place. I scowled at the Troll and tried to look skeptical.

Apparently, the ploy worked. Xon'cha handed me two extra pieces of silver and then led Izzy away to the stables. I dumped the change in my purse and grinned wide at his back. I felt like things were really going my way today.

Johnny and I headed quickly out of the Valley of Honor (in case Xon'Cha changed his mind) and walked on through The Drag.


	17. Grom'tuk

Episode 6: Grom'tuk

The far end of The Drag opens to a sunny area that contains a most peculiar sight. There stands an old, dead tree shaped like a sitting centaur. The tree stretched a good fifty feet up in the air, reaching to the very top of the canyon.

On top of the tree, someone had mounted a gigantic skull with enormous tusks. The tusks alone must have been fifteen feet in length.

Chained around the trunk of the tree was a great set of armor. The steel had begun to rust, but it must have been quite the sight when it was new.

What sort of creature had worn these plates? What kind of beast had tusks like that? How many men had it taken to down it?

A meaty hand clapped down on my shoulder. "You must be new to Orgrimmar, calf!"

"Calf" is a funny word to the Tauren. It is charged with meaning. Only two sets of people would dare call you a calf - your elders and your best friends - and your buddies would full-well expect the punch in the nose for doing it.

I spun quickly around, throwing the hand roughly off of me.

They say that staring into the furry chest of a Tauren is like facing a wall of meat. Well, staring at the chest of an armored Tauren is like facing a castle wall.

The Tauren wall that had been erected some six inches in front of my face was a good half foot taller than me. It also seemed to stretch to both horizons, but I was hesitant to turn my head to either side.

The wall was armored in the fiercest set of plate mail that had ever been forged. The metal was thick, black and sharp. It looked like it would easily snag loose items that might get tossed against it - loose items like fingers and ears.

This was not the sort of armor you might decorate a king with, all polished and pretty, to make him look like a warrior. No, this was the sort of thing worn by someone who swung a weapon for a living.

I lowered my gaze and took a half step back. "Yes sir, I just arrived."

Damn. He wasn't standing on a stool... Was I standing in a rut? I wondered.

"Perfect!" he shouted, "You can come and celebrate with me." He clapped both of my upper arms with his open gauntlets, as if I were his long-lost poalo (brother).

"No sir, I really must be..."

"I insist."

And then we were walking. It is a great insult to refuse your elder when they insist. I was not ready to make any enemies here.

"First, I just need to drop off my gear at the blacksmith for repair. Boomstick Imports is on the corner."

I walked in a daze alongside the giant Tauren. He was unlike anyone I had ever met. No, scratch that. He was unlike any Tauren I had ever met. He was jovial, outspoken, outgoing, and he talked with an Orcish accent. That was the strangest thing of all.

I ground a finger in one of my ears to check for mites. I kept expecting to see some Orcs holding up his armor like a puppet.

But he wasn't an Orc. He was Tauren - just the most Orcish Tauren ever.

And everywhere we went, people greeted him by name. He seemed to know everyone and everyone knew him.

"Welcome back, Grom'tuk!" "So good to see you again, Grom'tuk." "Come inside, Grom'tuk, your favorite snack just came out of the oven." Okay, perhaps I exaggerate, but the Tauren with an Orcish name was making my head spin.


	18. A Naked Troll

Episode 7: A Naked Troll

The desert sun was bearing down outside The Drag and it was hot in Valley of Strength. But that heat outside was nothing compared to air pouring out of Boomstick Imports. Grom'tuk stepped inside and I poked my head in behind him.

The forge was fired up full-blast and standing inside the shop made you feel like your fur had been lit on fire.

Inside I saw a practically-naked Troll working a great double-bellows. Sweat was streaming down him like a waterfall. He stopped pumping when the great Tauren entered, scooped a mug of water from a basin, drained it, refilled it, and dumped the second mug over his bright, shaggy hair.

I don't want to sound envious, because I'm not, but I was fascinated by the Troll. Orcs and Tauren are massive and bulky, but Trolls have muscle definition that you just can't describe. They're tall and lanky, but they have muscles like knotted ropes. I do not know if this makes any sense, but it was as if he had no skin at all.

Their hands and faces are long too, like their bodies. Long chins, long noses, long fingers. And crazy hair! I wondered what made it stand on end like that. Tauren manes are so much more flat.

In a way, Trolls reminded me of gigantic mosquitoes. I suppose that sounds offensive, and I don't mean it to be.

We're just built so differently. Taurens are made for crashing through obstacles and Trolls are more adept at climbing over them. You'll never see a Tauren in a tree, but Trolls, if anything, looked out of place on the ground.

I could see why they favored their jungle homes over the desert or the plains. They must have been right at home there.

The Troll waved at the blacksmith who was just out of sight. "B'right back wit'a food, ma." He took a plain, light, linen robe off a hook and stepped outside the shop before slipping it over his head. I can't really blame him. If I had to work in such heat, I would only wear a simple loincloth too.

Perhaps there was some sense to wearing clothes made of cloth, after all.

He slapped a palm to my upper arm and gestured me into the small shop. "Gwan in, me gib y'some room fi standin'."

He turned and left, and that's when I noticed that Grom'tuk was arguing loudly with the shopkeeper. Actually, he was loud, but she was shouting in his face.

I stepped inside the crowded shop and my heart skipped a beat.

And then, as if to make up for the oversight, it began hammering away in my chest like a winded rabbit in a hollow log.

I could feel the insides of my ears turn bright red. In embarrassment, I laid them against my head, despite the stifling heat.

Kaja was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

I don't know how much I should or shouldn't say here, as I don't want to tease or offend. Tauren and Orcs are great allies, but we don't... we don't think of each other.

Boy.

We don't... find each other attractive. Not any more than you might admire my kodo... or...

That didn't come out right.

I think my ears are turning red again.


	19. Kaja

Episode 8: Kaja

Where was I? Oh yes, Kaja.

Kaja had beautiful tan fur with a white blaze on her chest and forehead. It was short, short fur like from the middle of your first summer. If she had even grown a winter coat here in the desert, she must have blown it out the first time she fired up the forge.

She was smudged here and there with soot from the forge. I could see where she had pushed her brown hair out of her eyes with the back of a hand.

Even over the strong aromas of oil, sparks on fur, and wet Troll, I could smell the short, straight hair she cropped at her shoulders. It was so unusual for a Tauren gal to not let it grow, but it must have been a relief in the heat. The scent of her sweat was making me feel more than a little dizzy. It was intoxicating.

Her face was hard and she gritted her teeth, but there was just something about the shape of her mouth and her dark eyes. I could tell that if she were to smile, that I would just melt into a puddle.

Tauren cows tend to be strong, but soft. I don't think anyone would call Kaja soft. She had just the sort of body you would expect to get from a lifetime of forming steel with a hammer.

She was muscular, and curvy, and a fire burned inside her that could smelt adamantite.

"Turn your tail around and march right out of here!" she yelled, one arm extended straight out the door.

As the Troll had stripped down to a loincloth to cope with the heat, Kaja wore her heavy leather blacksmith apron... and nothing else. As she pointed, one perfect breast emerged from behind it, waiting for Grom'tuk to leave.

I realized I was staring and silently closed my mouth.

Although no Orcish gal would strip this bare in Orgrimmar, Kaja's nudity did not offend the Orcs. As I said, they don't really view us in that way.

"I'm a gunsmith!" she yelled. "Do you think I get any titanium or cobalt out here? What makes you think I can repair your gear? Take it to Okothos and Borgosh! Have them clean up this mess."

Grom'tuk was fuming at this point, but instead of getting louder, he got quieter. He shifted seamlessly from Orcish to Taurahe to keep his words private. "The last time, Kaja, that Master Armorsmith Okothos repaired my gear," his words were slow and clearly enunciated, I thought the bulging vein in his neck might burst, "he mended my tail hole shut."

A silence stretched over the shop until Kaja erupted in laughter. Her eyes disappeared into perfect dark crescents and I thought I might faint. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and steal her away.

Grom'tuk gritted his teeth a moment before he too began to howl. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

Kaja put a hand tenderly to his cheek. "Okay, okay, set your gear there. I'll take care of it soon."

The bull began to disassemble his armor and arrange it carefully on a table. Kaja afforded him no privacy. She waited with hands on hips as he disrobed.

I was finding Orgrimmar most confusing. Our utankan norms and boundaries did not seem to apply here.

"So you talked to him?" she asked.

"I did, and he has granted my leave." He grinned up at her as he removed his greaves. She rolled her eyes. "Will you come with me?"

"Ha!" she hooted, loud and harsh. "And sell my business for what? Peasantry?" I thought she might spit.

The conversation died at that point. It was a shame. I wanted to hear her voice, but I felt like an outsider and dared not speak.

No one said a word until we were ready to leave. He had changed into dark, glossy cloth trousers and a light, fitted blouse that was only loosely fastened in the front, leaving much of his broad chest showing. It seemed strange to see a Tauren in cloth, but it was no more incongruous than anything else about Grom'tuk.

"Dinner?" he asked.

"When I close," Kaja replied, "not before."

She returned to her anvil and began to hammer on a small piece of cold iron. The conversation was done, but Grom'tuk and I couldn't manage to go. Instead we just stared at Kaja's beautiful tail as it traced a wide figure-eight in the air - sweeping back and forth in time with the hammer-blows.

Kaja worked for another moment or two before releasing a loud and aggravated snort. She turned and pointed her hammer at Grom'tuk's face. In Taurahe, "Go now, or I'll hammer shut more than just your tail hole!"


	20. Tales of Mulgore

Episode 9: Tales of Mulgore

From Boomstick Imports we retired to The Axe and Hammer, a dingy inn just beyond the noise and commotion of the Valley of Strength. Innkeeper Gryshka hustled some Orcs away from a back table where they had been loitering over a game of chance. Before we could even ask what was on the grill, the table was piled high with spiced meat and crusty bread. It smelled delicious!

"To Thrall!" Grom'tuk shouted with flagon of mead held high. We all cheered and joined his toast.

When the cheers grew quieter, I shifted to Taurahe myself. "What do we celebrate today, Grom'tuk-ee?" The suffix I used connoted my respect.

He responded in Taurahe as well, "I'm sorry, my new friend."

"Brick," I volunteered.

"Brick! A warrior's name! Today we drink to my retirement." He grinned and toasted me. "To the Horde!" he yelled in Orcish. Again, the patrons cheered and grinned.

I was grinning too. You couldn't help yourself around Grom'tuk. "To your retirement, Grom'tuk-ee" I said with a smile.

His dark eyes sparkled and wrinkles gathered in the corners. He had a shaggy, tan hide and long braids of brown hair. His beard was thin and unkempt. It was splashed through with grey. One ear was notched, and his smile was contagious.

Despite being of obvious station, he wore only simple jewelry: a braided- leather bracelet; a simple, beaded necklace; the thick, steel, door-knocker- type nose ring favored by many Tauren men. He had not decorated his horns. They were short, rounded and black. I guessed that they had been chipped so many times in battle that he had opted to saw them down.

Over the hours that followed, he told me many stories of Northrend; of the strange peoples and creatures he had met, and of the battles he had seen. Despite the fascinating life he had lead, he kept coming back around to hear my own story.

I tried to tell him of my journey to Orgrimmar, but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. He wanted to know more about life in Mulgore. He wanted to hear about my utankan and the nokee zhi I had seen. He wanted to hear about the mundane things like packing up the encampment and moving across the prairie. He wanted to hear about swimming in Stonebull lake and exploring the limestone caves.

I reflected back on my second summer and told him whatever seemed interesting. Not much of it was, but he seemed to drink it all in.

I told him of the winter that followed, and how my poalo and anohe (brothers and sisters) would hide in snowbanks and burst out on one another. I told him how the cows would shriek and the bulls would give chase. He laughed and clapped me on the back.

In retrospect, it all seemed so innocent now. My poalo and I had the big decision to make in the spring, of course. We had to choose whether we would stay with our own utankan or set out and try to find another. I did not know then that I would be sent away to serve the Horde.

Knowing that I would have to fight in the war made all our worries about competing for mates seem petty. I knew he understood.

I told him how we would rope-wrestle to impress the girls and his eyes lit up.

"Rope-wrestling! Oh, man, I had forgotten all about that. Orcs don't have rope wrestling, you see?"

"No rope-wrestling?" I couldn't even imagine life without such a fundamental thing.

"No trees," he explained. I guess that makes sense. How can you rope wrestle without trees?

He grinned like a mad bull and jumped to his feet, knocking his bench over in the process. "We have to rope-wrestle! We have to!"


	21. The Center of Attention

Episode 10: The Center of Attention

I stood and my head started to spin. That mead was like a low ceiling. It's best not to stand too quick.

"Rope wrastle?" I pinched my lips together between my thumb and primary finger. They felt a little numb and hesitant to cooperate. "But there's no trees. I'd rather not walk all the way to Ashenvale just to wrestle."

But Grom'tuk was unstoppable. He dropped some coins on the table and dragged me by the arm into the middle of the Valley of Strength.

In the valley's center stood a small rise from which the tiny goblin Rezlak presided over an auction of slaves.

"We require this space for a brief contest of skill," the big bull slurred.

"By your wish, my Lord," the goblin grovelled. "No more bids!" he snapped at the crowd.

I looked around and suddenly felt very out of place. I was growing accustomed to being taller than the Orcs around me, but up upon the rise I suddenly felt like I was the center of attention.

I took a step back and stumbled into a thick pole. Looking slowly up, I realized it was more than that. A heavy beam was attached to the pole and a heavy rope was attached to the beam. There was no mistaking the noose at the end of the rope.

I gasped and stepped quickly away, only to realize that I was backing towards the pole's twin. I looked at the mob surrounding us and I felt more than just conspicuous. I felt like meat being auctioned off to the butchers. I wished I was back at the inn.

Grom'tuk snapped his fingers and pointed at a Troll over to the edge of the audience. "You!" The Troll looked worried. He pointed to his chest in clear hopes that the Tauren didn't mean him.

Grom'tuk tossed a coin to the Troll and then pointed up at the gallows. "I require a rope."

The Troll grinned wide in relief and shimmied on up the pole. Before I even realized what was going on, he was already down, handing the noose to Grom'tuk.

"What are the wagers, my Lord, for this little contest of skills?" The Goblin yelled over the quickly-growing crowd.

The large bull grinned wide. He reached deep in his purse and pulled out a small stack of golden coins. He displayed them to the audience in a slow, showman's sweep and then handed the stack over to Rezlak. The crowd cheered.

"And the challenger... What do you wager against Lord Grom'tuk's gold?" Rezlak called in a scary sing-song voice.

I pressed my palms together and pleaded quietly with the old bull. "My Lord! My Lord! I have no possessions the equal of that. Please let us..."

Grom'tuk cut me off by addressing the crowd, "I will tell our young friend here... what he wagers... when our contest is complete!"

The crowd went wild.

I can't say I liked the sound of that! I didn't know what to do, so I took one end of the rope and tied it securely around one of the poles. Grom'tuk did the same with the other end and the other pole. The rope hung loosely between them, up at chest-high at the poles, and knee-high in the middle.

Grom'tuk took off his shirt and dropped it on the ground. The crowd screamed louder still. Some Orcish gals pretended to faint at the sight of his furry chest.

I did the same and the audience roared with laughter.

"Best two out of three attempts!" he announced.

He then took off his pants and dumped them unceremoniously on top of his shirt. The noise was deafening. He strutted back and forth wearing only his small clothes, flexing his muscles.

Then the quickly-growing crowd's attention turned to me. I froze still for a moment; unsure of myself, but without a plan for escape.

My ears burned red, but I removed my drawers anyhow and set them atop my shirt. Some laughed, some screamed, some pointed at my small clothes in delight.

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for the jeering to stop.


	22. Rope Wrestling

Episode 11: Rope Wrestling

"Two gold on the challenger pays three on Lord Grom'tuk! Two pays three!" Rezlak called. Hands went to purses and the goblin happily collected the bets.

The old bull put a friendly arm around my shoulders and pulled me close so I could hear him over the roar. "I thank you for doing this, my new friend." I grinned with him. "But do not think for a moment that I'm gonna' go easy on you!"

"Nor shall I on you!" I promised. I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.

I took my place on one side of the rope and he took the other. I crouched down on all fours, preparing to sprint towards Grom'tuk, and he mirrored me on the other side.

We waited and waited. Soon the noise dropped to a whisper and Rezlak yelled that all bets were in.

"No!" I yelled.

"Owa!" Grom'tuk yelled.

Then together, "Halii!"

In unison, we charged to the center, and I had been right to count on the speed advantage I had over the older bull. I dodged gracefully to the side and grabbed the rope with one hand, lifting it up as high as I could.

Grom'tuk could not stop his charge and went right under the rope, across the rise, and onto his face; tail high in the air.

The crowd gasped with a single voice. Whatever they had been expecting, this was not it.

I grinned like a maniac and casually hopped over the rope. I lifted both hands in victory and the silent crowd stared. They had never seen rope-wrestling before, and had no idea what the rules were.

But Grom'tuk did. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, and returned to the rope. "Very tricky, little calf!" he laughed. "One:zero it is."

Although typically a test of strength, rope-wrestling really only has one rule: whichever challenger crosses over the rope first, wins.

The silence was palatable and stretched until Rezlak cried, "Three gold on the challenger pays four on Lord Grom'tuk! Additional bets! Three pays four!"

The cheers erupted louder than ever and even more money was exchanged. At least I had improved the odds slightly.

Businesses closed their doors so that the shopkeepers could join the crowd. From atop the rise, I could see more people streaming in from the other canyons and up ladders to get a better view.

There would be no tricking the old bull twice. This time I stood toe to toe with him and waited for the crowd to get ready.

"No!" he yelled.

"Owa," I replied.

As one, we grabbed each others arms and jockeyed for position. I grabbed a wrist and he grabbed my elbow. "You're very strong..." I mustered, "for such... an old man."

It was bluster and he knew it. I had never wrestled with any Tauren this strong.

I dug my hooves into the sand and tried to get a little more leverage.

Suddenly our grips broke and we were flailing at each other, trying to get a better hold.

The crowd went wild.

My left arm was trapped underneath his right. I reached over his shoulder and grabbed his chin, slowly pulling it to one side as Grom'tuk tried to lock his hands behind my back.

"Concede..." he grunted.

"Never!" I replied.

He grasped his hands together and I pulled harder on his chin, struggling against his massive neck muscles.

As one, we grunted; but while I pulled, he lifted. My hooves left the ground, and I knew that my defeat was imminent. I tried to hook an ankle around his knee but it was too late. Grom'tuk toppled forward like a fallen tree and landed hard on top of me.

Air whooshed out of my lungs and stars twinkled before my eyes.

"One:one, my young friend," he laughed and helped me to my feet.

I hurt so much already. At least the challenge was nearly over.

There were bets being placed. I was sure of that, but it was all one big roar.

We took our places and smiled. "However this next bout goes..." I said.

"...it's been a pleasure," he finished for me.

We shook hands... no... owa... halii.

As quickly as I could, I ducked down over the rope and grabbed both of Grom'tuk's knees. If I could just unbalance him...

The old bull stooped down on top of me and grabbed my thighs.

I rocked to the tips of my hooves and shoved with my head. I tried to lift him up off of the ground, but it was just no use. His grip was like iron and I could not break it.

Suddenly the world upended and we were spinning, spinning, spinning. Two Taurens strung on rope, spinning like a giant child's toy.

We came to rest on our backs and laid there on the rise amid a chorus of shouts, staring up at the sky, our legs tangled in rope.

I could hear him struggling to catch his breath so I kicked gently at him with one hoof. "Did I win?"

"I'm afraid not," he chuckled, "my young friend."


	23. Spoils to the Victor

Episode 12: Spoils to the Victor

When we had regained our breath, we tied on our pants and walked off the rise. Various people clapped us on the back, congratulating his win and consoling my loss.

I followed him to the relative quiet of The Drag. Over my shoulder, I could see Orcish children playing on the rope we had left. They tried to imitate what they had seen. It seemed a far better use for the old rope and poles.

I pulled on my shirt and he slung his over a shoulder. "Dare I ask what I have lost?"

He smiled and put an arm on my shoulders. "I want your utankan."

"What?" He might as well have asked for the land under my feet or the sky over my head.

"At the end of my first summer... that must have been... seven years ago? My utankan was attacked by centaurs. That was the height of the centaur wars, you know, before we liberated Mulgore.

"The centaurs showed no mercy and the entire tribe was wiped out. They would have killed us all, had a nearby company of Horde soldiers not seen the smoke. I'll never forget that day, if I live to be twenty."

He sighed wistfully, lost in his thoughts. "The soldiers drove the centaurs away, but so few of us survived... myself, my anohe Kaja, a couple other calves, and some wounded elders."

You seem a little confused, so let me explain. The Tauren utankan is an extended family. We do bond with our parents and children, but it is most unlike an Orcish family. All the adults raise all the children.

Poalo and anohe do mean brother and sister, but more specifically they refer to calves that were born in the same utankan on the same year. It's not really about which Tauren share the same parentage. We don't obsess over bloodlines and such. Every Tauren in an utankan is family.

"There were not enough of us left to go on, and the other tribes were hiding across the Barrens, so the army took us back to Orgrimmar. I became a soldier and fought for the Horde. Kaja became a gunsmith.

"Seven years ago..." He shook his head. "Our elders are all gone now. I probably still have a poalo in Outlands or Northrend, but the utankan is dead. Kaja is the only family I have left."

"So you want my... family?"

"Thrall has released me from duty and I will see Mulgore. I will live in our homeland." He smiled and his eyes gathered wrinkles, "I have earned that much. But I have no family to return to."

I was incredulous. "You're a hero of the Horde. Any utankan would want you. Although the older males will not be happy," I grinned, "to compete with you for mates. So why bother with such a silly wager?"

He grinned to himself, savoring some private joke as we walked. Then he slapped me hard on the back.

"This will make for a better story to tell your own calves, someday..."


	24. Part III: Desires

Episode 1: Desires

I followed Grom'tuk up a stairway in the shade of The Drag, and said fairwell outside an oak door.

"I've been conscripted, so I guess I better find the master of arms."

Grom'tuk made a sour face. "Don't do that."

I must have seemed incredulous. I was no coward.

"What do you want, Brick? More than anything else, what is it you want?"

I was not ready for that question. Actually, the entire conversation seemed surprising. I didn't really know how to answer.

I thought about my utankan and how they wanted me to come home. I thought about the guard's necklace that I was keeping in my bedroll, and how her parents might want it back. I thought about Kaja... and suddenly felt uncomfortable speaking to Grom'tuk.

"I... don't have an answer for that... yet," I said.

The big bull crossed his arms and smiled that damned infectious smile of his. "That's okay, Brick. It took me a long time to figure that out, myself.

"I grew up here, in Orgrimmar. Eventually, I realized that what I wanted more than anything else was a family. So, I made these people my family."

Grom'tuk pointed to various passers-by. "Karolek needed zhevra hides, so I went hunting. Dran needed relics lost when a freighter sunk, so I learned to dive. Kaja needed a shop, so I helped her build one.

"Everyone needs something; so I have served the Horde by serving its people.

"The rank and file," he snorted angrily, "that's a good fit for the rogue that follows you around." He pointed down and across The Drag at Johnny. I had lost track of him myself, but Grom'tuk missed nothing.

"They wait here, month after month, year after year, until Nazgrel orders an assault on this stronghold or that. Then he throws them into the meat grinder of battle, and they die as anonymously as they lived - in some foreign land, without even a proper burial.

"Is that the life you want? Your utankan wanted you to serve, and so you must. But how you serve is really up to you."

# # #

I stood outside that closed door for quite some time, feeling like my whole world had been turned on end. I had never even realized that I had any choice in what became of me.

Then I was wandering, aimlessly, for what seemed like hours. When I regained my bearings, I was back in the Valley of Strength, standing outside Boomstick Imports once more.


	25. Lead

Episode 2: Lead

The sun had dropped low and the canyon cast deep, cool shadows over the valley. Kaja stood outside her shop, leaning against the stone wall, with a blackroot stem in her mouth.

Blackroot is an intensely bitter herb. The harder you bite into it, the more bitter it tastes. But along with the bitterness, comes a considerable lift. It helps you stay awake and alert, even when your muscles are tired.

I offered her my hand. "My friends call me Brick. We didn't really get to meet when you... and your poalo..."

"...were fighting? Yeah, we do that a lot."

I didn't want to let go of her hand. Her skin was calloused and hard, but her grip strong and warm. She had changed out of her blacksmith apron and into a skirt and blouse. She wore a copper anklet just above one hoof.

Her shirt clung to her curves and opened to a point above her heart. It was laced loosely and untied. The cloth was almost white, but strange. It reminded me a little of a spider's web in how it picked up the color of the short fur behind it.

"It's called lace," she explained. "The Thalassians weave it."

"I've never seen anything like it. It looks lovely... on you."

She smiled for a moment and then crossed her arms over her chest. She looked away.

She had short, stumpy horns that were as dark as coal. Her ears were down, away from the noise of the city. Her face had been washed clean of soot.

"He just really pulls my trigger. Everybody loves Grom'tuk, but I just... I just want to slap him, y'know?"

I nodded and smiled. "I've met a few people like that."

The conversation threatened to die and I felt myself panicking. I didn't want it to be over. "He told me that everyone wants something." It wasn't much, but it was the only thing I could think of to say.

"Everyone but Grom'tuk. He always has everything he could ever want." I couldn't see why she was so angry at him.

"He wants things," I volunteered. "He wants to go to Mulgore."

"That's not a 'thing'. That's a lack of things. He wants give up everything he has... and... and go live in the dirt..." She snapped her head to the side, her eyes opened wide. The smell of spicy blackroot on her breath made my heart pound. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't be." It hurt a little that she dismissed of my whole life to this point as "living in the dirt," but I didn't want her to look away. I stared into her eyes.

"What is it you want?" I asked.

She smiled and her gaze drifted off. I didn't think she was going to answer. Then she turned back to me. "Lead."

"Lead?"

She nodded. "I want lead. Guns, I've got, but lead is in short supply. I want lead to make into bullets."

I smiled, and then she asked me what I wanted. I could feel my heart start to race and sweat start to soak my fur. "Me? Um, um..." I knew exactly what I wanted but had no idea how to say it. "I want... to... get you some lead."

I felt relieved and stupid at the same time.

"Oh really." She looked out across the valley as if people told her every day that they wanted to get her some lead. Her mouth curled up at the edges with the barest wisp of a smile.

"Sure! I'd love to." I still felt stupid, but not nearly as stupid as I would have had I been honest. "Any idea where I might..."

Now she was grinning too. At least it was a step in the right direction. "...might find some lead?

"The nearest lead mine is the Boulder Lode. It's a couple days' walk, west and south."

"I'll just borrow a pick axe and I'll be on my way..."

She punched me in the shoulder and shook her head. She stared at my face a long time, trying to determine if I was serious. "There's miners there at the mine... they've just stopped shipping. If you wanted to take a cart out there and buy me some ore..."

"Why did they stop shipping?"

"No one knows," she told me. "Perhaps the mine tapped out? Perhaps they had a cave in? No idea. But if you went out there, you could find out."

"I'd love to."

She looked me right in the eyes and smiled. The very tips of my ears tingled. I would have walked the entire way on my hands for that smile alone.


	26. Nothing is Ever Simple

Episode 3: Nothing is Ever Simple

Kaja had given me a quick primer on the value of lead; what was a good deal and how much was too much to spend. She showed me the last of her stock and explained how to tell good lead from bad. She even explained some of the scams that the Goblins had tried to pull in the past.

I doubted that I could tell galena from cerussite or anglesite, but spending the time with her had filled me with confidence. I was pretty sure that I could work a deal and not come back with load of tailings.

Our next stop was back to Xon'cha, the stable master. He thought I wanted to take Izzy back to Razor Hill, and so it took a good deal of effort to communicate otherwise.

"Boulder Lode mine," I repeated, poking at the map on his wall. "I need a hand cart, or a small drawn cart that I can take to the mine. I need to carry two or three hundred pounds of lead ore."

Finally, he seemed to get it. He corrected where I was pointing on the map. "A dig be deh, mon. Mi getcha say-so fi a go a dis. Inna sun-up, a'right?" He nodded his understanding. "Inna sun-up."

"No, not in the morning. I want to rent a cart now."

"Naa, y'soon come in a sun-up, sight?" And he sent me on my way.

Johnny and I spent the night under the stars, high atop the canyon wall. A lot of the infantry was up there too, whiling away the hours until morning. We were surrounded by travellers who could not afford lodging, and troops without permanent accommodations. Orcs built campfires, they sang and drank. There was a great sense of camaraderie.

At first light, we returned to Xon'cha, who had a kodo and a huge cart waiting for us. "No, no Xon'cha," I explained, "I just need a small cart."

"Mi get fi say-so. Godeh dig an' get whole load a dis."

He took me inside and unrolled a small map that I could bring on the trip. The map showed Orgrimmar, the mine, and several small villages in the area. "Y'Tarren kyaan read, yeh?"

"I can read a map." I found his tone very insulting. Perhaps I was just getting frustrated.

Xon'cha took three scrolls out of a satchel and gestured at the villages marked on the map. Now I understood. It was only two months earlier that my own utankan had received the same sort of scroll.

"Y'Tarren kyaan read, yeh?" he repeated.

"No, I can't read."

The lanky Troll nodded his bright-red mane. He took out a quill and marked the outsides of the scrolls with three different symbols, a square, a circle, and a triangle. Then he marked the map with the same three symbols.

"Den might be dey kyaan read neida'. Mek dem see it, a'right?"

"I'll explain it to them."

"Ripe." He marked the map again. Three hash marks by the large village, two by the medium one, and one by the smallest.

This was not a chore I wanted, but it was clear that I had no choice. The villages had one month to provide one, two, or three conscripts, depending on the how many people lived there.

Outside, the cart was loaded with enough food and feed for a couple-week journey. We'd have to pick up the lead last, of course. Once we were carrying all that weight, our progress would be slow.

Xon'cha reached in his purse and pulled out ten pieces of gold. "Get whole kyart fi deh Harde."

I looked over the reinforced wheels and supports. The cart looked strong enough to haul lead, but the cart was huge. I sized it up in my mind. "That's not enough." I shook my head. If what Kaja had told me was fair, then there was no way I could buy a full cart of lead for ten pieces of gold. "For ten, they will sell us only half a cart. Half at best."

Xon'cha looked back and forth between the cart and gold for a while before he agreed. He pulled out eight more coins. "Y'dun tief a Harde's coin," he warned, "'caa deh grunts an' Xon'cha, wi follow wit' cuttas... tek yu mojo bag, sight."

He cupped his hand between his legs, to make sure I understood.

I took the gold from his hand and pressed my face up to his. "I won't steal the money."

Jerk.


	27. A Solemn Task

Episode 4: A Solemn Task

From Orgrimmar, we headed West, over the Southfury river and to the cliffs of the northern barrens. The cliffs lined the river, but there was a trail along its edge that was just wide enough for a cart and kodo. The going was slow, but not nearly as slow as the walk with Izzy had been.

If this kodo had a name, what it was wasn't clear. I was so angry with Xon'cha that I hadn't asked. So I nicknamed the great beast Slobbers.

The city defenders had assured me that there were no threats in the area. No enemy troops had been spotted and there were no targets of strategic significance. Plus, with as little traffic as the trail usually saw, it seemed more likely to encounter wild animals than brigands.

As the day passed, I spent the time trying to work with Johnny. I talked to him. I pointed out things I thought were interesting. I told him about my family and related stories from my childhood. Although the progress was slow, it seemed to be working.

I encouraged him to eat every day. I don't think he really had to, but without prompting, he would go for days without taking a bite of anything. I wanted him to remember his humanity. Sometimes when he ate, I almost thought I detected a hint of a smile.

In the late afternoon, we took a fork in the trail that led us into a valley and eventually up the cliffs themselves. From there, we would cross the plateau to a great lake at the foot of a waterfall. I didn't know the name of the village, the lake, or the waterfall (they were just scribbles on the map), but the landmarks would be obvious enough and hard to miss.

On the third day, Johnny poked my arm and pointed towards thin whisps of smoke. In itself, this seemed like a minor thing, but for Johnny, it was a breakthrough.

We walked slowly into town and were viewed with suspicion by all. Mothers held children close or watched from windows. We walked past farms and ranches to what seemed like the center of the village. Wherever we went, people stopped what they were doing and followed us.

A door opened on one of the larger homes and an older Orc hurried out. He had long, braided, salt-and-pepper hair, and muscles that were starting to get doughy with age. Unlike the other villagers, he approached me directly. "Lok'tar, friend," the traditional Orcish greeting.

"I bring word from Orgrimmar." I reached in the satchel and removed the scroll marked with a square. It was an off-white parchment sealed with the red crest of the Horde.

He did not look surprised, more resigned. He accepted the scroll with dignity, broke the seal, and read the words without moving his lips. I was thankful he could read. I felt bad enough informing him that three of their children must be sent off to war. Having to say the words myself would only make it harder.

"Dabu." I obey.

Although I wished to spend a night in a bed, and to eat a home-cooked meal, I did not belong here. They had only a month to select and say farewell to their children. I did not want to steal away any of that time.

I turned my cart around and lead it back the way I came without another word.

From there, I walked south along a poorly-marked trail. Our next stop was the smallest of the three villages we had to visit. I was worried that we would miss it or that I would lose the trail entirely. By comparison with how far we had walked to the first village, I judged that it would take another four days.

The one-sided conversations with Johnny were leaving me drained, and I was running out of trivial, unimportant things to blather on about.

"What do you think about Kaja?"

It just sort of came out. I wasn't sure I was even ready to talk about her, even to someone who I knew could keep a secret. Johnny looked at me, and I think he raised his eyebrows a little.

"I don't know why she makes me feel so crazy," I explained. "Tauren aren't like this. We don't favor one cow over another. We compete against the other bulls to acquire the biggest herd we can. We don't... we don't..."

I sighed long and hard. "I know that the Orcs pair off... they mate for life... it's really... weird... How about Forsaken?"

Johnny stared at me, blankly. It was an insensitive question to ask the undead, perhaps.

"I guess you guys don't really... But, what about before the plague? Did your people mate for life?"

Johnny nodded. He seemed sad - even sadder than usual. I suspected that he wasn't ready yet to talk about his past.

Or for me to talk about it, I supposed.


	28. Little Ghost Town on the Prairie

Episode 5: Little Ghost Town on the Prairie

I knew the next part of our journey would be the most treacherous. It would take us within a day of the Kolkar clan's territory.

The Kolkar were a dangerous group of centaurs. Nomadic and belligerent, they were the bane of the Barrens settlers. You never knew when a band would roam too close to established farms and spark a skirmish.

The Horde outriders made it a practice of attacking whichever band of centaurs was the closest to the settlers. There was no telling whether this discouraged them from getting too close, or only fanned the flames.

On the map, a large spire marked the path down from the plateau to the lower barrens. In reality, the spire was not nearly so large as we expected. By the time we spotted it, we had wasted most of a day's travel going in the wrong direction.

Despite the lost time, I was glad to have found it. Taking a cart down a cliff is a dangerous process. Had we given up and decided to forge a new trail, I would have had to leave the kodo and cart at the top and try path after path on foot until I found one that Slobbers could handle.

We reached the lower Barrens in the late afternoon and headed West again to find the smallest town on our route. I wasn't comfortable setting up camp out here in the open, so we pushed on until dusk.

As the shadows grew long, we reached the triangle on the map, but there was no town to be found. The buildings we found had burnt, been abandoned, and been reclaimed by the desert. It didn't appear that anyone had lived here in quite some time.

"Let's set up camp in one of these old farmhouses. If we build a fire in a fireplace, it'll draw less attention."

But instead of scouting the houses around us, Johnny pointed across a field toward a dim light glowing in a window.

"Perhaps someone is home, after all."

I knocked on the door and was greeted with a pitchfork in my chest.

"I bring word from... are you the only one here?" The house looked only slightly less abandoned than the others, and the lone occupant was an Orcish boy. He was tiny, under five feet tall. Scrawny and filthy, he reminded me of a rat in its nest.

I ducked deep to enter and still had to lower my head to keep it out of the cobwebby rafters. He returned to the pot that hung over the fireplace and avoided my gaze.

"Where's your family, son? Where is everyone?"

"Dead." His anger sounded blunted by exhaustion and time. "Killed in a Kolkar raid, last fall."

"Just you escaped?"

"I was fishing when they attacked. I came back when I saw the smoke, but everyone was gone."

Wow. Settler life was rough. "So why did you stay...?"

"This is my farm now," he spat. He turned to face me. "My father built it and died defending it."

"But you're..." I didn't really know what to say, "only a calf..."

"I am not!" he screamed at my belt. "I'm twelve! I'm a grown-up!" His voice made a funny cracking sound. There were a lot of tears.

The Orcish furniture looked small, so I sat on the floor, against a rough-hewn wall. "Twelve?" I snorted, "That seems unlikely." My father was nine years old, and I bet he weighed more than this child when he was newborn. "You're pretty small... for twelve."

He wiped his eyes on the ratty sleeve of a shirt that was too small for him. He gritted his teeth. "I am not small."

"Well..." I conceded, "perhaps everyone seems small to me."

"So, did you walk all the way out here from Mulgore just to insult me?"

"No." I reached in the satchel and removed the scroll marked with a triangle. He took it but did not bother breaking the seal. "Orgimmar has given your village a month to provide one conscript to serve the Horde."

He stared at the red insignia on the scroll for a very long time. "Okay, let's go."


	29. Urlug

Episode 6: Urlug

Despite the boy's wishes, we stayed the night before restocking the cart and backtracking East. We followed the plateau's rough edge, even though it made travel slower. I was uncomfortable getting any closer to centaur lands than I absolutely had to.

Urlug, the Orcish boy, really came out of his shell once he left the village. He talked non-stop for the entire first day, as if he was trying to make up for the long months of silence and loneliness.

Johnny seemed more distant than ever; he followed the cart at a greater distance each day. I felt bad for him, but I didn't know how to include him in conversations when he wouldn't speak. If anything, the boy was his polar opposite.

Regardless of our alleged age difference, I felt like I had a lot in common with Urlug. Oh sure, he thought that girls made the best targets for throwing mud clods, and I found them more... interesting; but on other subjects we were much more in sync. Rocks were made for climbing; caves existed to be explored; and catching crawdads was a lot more fun than doing chores.

The boy told me stories and actually asked me things. It was really refreshing. You don't realize how hard it is to talk to someone like Johnny until you have something to compare it against.

Even when his talking started to run out of steam, a single question could be enough to get him going again. "What is that thing you insisted on bringing?"

"That's my fishing pole. Hey! You said you love ta' fish. How come you don't know what a fishing pole is?"

"My people fish with nets. We throw them out into a stream," I explained, "and then gather up the fish caught inside."

"That sounds like cheating."

"Cheating?" I sighed heavily. "There are many Tauren in my utankan, my village, and my people are very large. Although it might work for someone like you, if I had to spear each fish, then we would get very hungry."

"You don't spear fish with a fishing pole."

"There's a large lake in the Valley of Honor," I told him. "Perhaps you can show me how you use it."

He told me that his father had made the pole, and that it was the last thing he had given him before he died. I could tell that he missed his family very much, and thought of them often. I showed him the hammer that I had made with my father.

Urlug insisted on hearing the story of our assault on Tiragarde Keep, and I told it faithfully - for the most part. I told him about how Johnny had dispatched the first guard and the boy's mouth and eyes went wide in wonder. He stared at the rogue with new-found respect and silently mouthed the word "Wow!"

Johnny's expression was unreadable, as usual.

I told him that I had hit the second guard with my hammer and knocked her out cold. "Wham!" he yelled gleefully. It was a white lie; one that I could live with. I hurried the story along so as not to dwell on it.

After four days of walking, we neared River Pointe. It was nice having a travel companion that knew the names of places, even if it didn't really matter.

"If you do not wish to go on to Orgrimmar, you could stop here. I'm sure someone would take you in..."

Urlug tried to kick the seat of my pants, but it was too high off the ground. "Are you kidding? I wanna' see the Undercity. An' I wanna' see Silvermoon. An' I wanna' see Northrend, and the Outlands, and a million other places. Farmers don't get to go nowhere."

"Farmers don't have to fight wars, either."

"Sometimes they do, Brick. Sometimes they do."

With the Orcish boy in tow, the people of River Pointe were far less stand- offish towards us. Other calves around his size gathered around and peppered him with questions as we walked. Their eyes were wide with excitement.

By the time we reached the village's center, a large crowd had gathered around us. A hush descended as we came to a stop and all eyes were on me.

"Last fall, a centaur attack destroyed the village of Devil's Spire." I waited for the gasps and murmurs to subside. "Urlug, here, was the only survivor. I'm taking him to Orgrimmar, so that when he's grown," he stuck his tongue out at me and I responded in kind, "he can fight for the Horde."

I removed the last scroll from the satchel. "In one month's time, you will need to send two of your own as well."

I handed the scroll to the first man who reached for it, and began to walk again. The crowd opened a path. "Hopefully someone taller than Urlug..." I added over my shoulder.

I lifted my tail to keep it from getting kicked.

We left the crowd behind and walked in silence.

"We should'a at least stayed the night," he finally interjected, glumly.

"Why? Are you no longer in a hurry to reach Orgrimmar?"


	30. Boulder Lode Mine

Episode 7: Boulder Lode Mine

"When we get to the mine, you'll have to help load the cart," I told Urlug.

"I could do that in my sleep," he chortled.

"Oh really? Take a look at that cart once more and tell me how many rocks you think will fit in it."

The little Orc ran around the back of the cart and then much slower back to me. He didn't seem so confident now.

"This is gonna' take forever."

I had to grin.

From River Pointe, we continued East, all the way to the Southfury river. From there, the road turned North, along the cliffs, back towards Orgrimmar.

We worked our way north for a couple of days until we finally reached the sturdy dock that the miners used to load their ore on a riverboat. According to the map, the mine would be at the top of the short, well-travelled road, due- east of the dock.

I had lost track of time, but it seems like it had been ages since we had left the city. The real shame was that all I had wanted to do was walk down this road, pick up a bag of ore, and walk back. I felt like I could have made a dozen such journeys in the time we had been out.

If only I hadn't stopped for one of Xon'cha's carts.

"When we get done loading the ore, I'm going to take a dip in the river."

"Why, did'ja see a good swimmin' hole back there?"

"I just need a bath."

Urlug wrinkled his nose at the word. "Well, you do smell like the barn."

"Oh, thank you very much. You're no field of peacebloom either."

I was going to tell him that he should take one as well, but I spied a Goblin, watching us from atop a canyon wall. Even far away, those little, toothy things made me nervous.

We walked a little farther until we came to a fence. I didn't see anyone around.

"Hello?" I called out. With a shrug, I unlatched the gate and led Slobbers inside.

"Hello?"

The road went around a bend and then opened to a large, flat area.

There were several buildings here. One looked like a bunkhouse and one a latrine. One was either a smoke house or a storage shed, and I guessed that the last one, the one way off by itself was for holding blasting supplies. It would make good sense to keep that one far from the others, just in case.

I had never seen Goblin construction before, but I suspected that these buildings were originally Orcish. With as tiny as Goblins were, it seemed unlikely that they would build a roof tall enough that I could to stand underneath.

At the far end of the area was a cave entrance that lead down into blackness. There were a number of tiny carts parked here and there, loaded high with ore. Harnessed to one was another strange chimera. It had the body of a horse, but it was the size of a large dog. I didn't know what creature it got its shaggy head from, but it must have had the ears of a rabbit.

There was a fire pit in the middle of the clearing and another canyon to the side where the tailings had been dumped.

"Hello?"

A Goblin with overalls and a squint came rushing out of the bunkhouse. "Who goes there?" he called. Some more Goblins appeared behind him, and I saw the flicker of movement coming from the cave.

"My... my friends call me Brick. And this is Urlug. We've come from Orgrimmar to purchase some ore."

"Orgrimmar? Orgrimmar! Nonsense! We ship ore to them every week!"

That's when I got really nervous. I had never seen a Goblin on its home ground before, but it seemed to put them on the offensive. Or worse! Despite their small size, there were dozens of them. I worried about an attack from all directions.

They moved like a pack of hyenas. They were circling around us; cutting off any possible escape route.

"Hey now, hey." I handed Slobbers' lead to Urlug and tried to work my way closer to the cart without spooking them. I hadn't expected there to be any problems, so I had left my hammer in the back. "Don't you want to sell us ore?"

I remember the next few things as if they had been illuminated by lightning on a dark night - isolated and out of context.

Slobbers lurching in fear.

Urlug yelling.

Someone screaming "Bandits!"

Grabbing my hammer.

Goblins climbing on me.

A large rock over my head.

Then there was no more lightning. Only blackness.


	31. Prisoners

Episode 8: Prisoners

I awoke, slow and groggy, with the worst headache I had ever felt. It was like an explosion of pain where my skull met my spine. And not just there - my ankles were killing me and my wrists hurt too. My arms were wrenched behind me at a queer angle.

My horns were jammed up against some wooden planks, placing my neck at an awkward angle and making it hard to see. I felt dizzy and there was ringing in my ears.

"Urlug? Are you there?" Someone was in the same room, talking, but my eyes weren't cooperating.

It had to be dark out, now. The room was lit by a lantern. I could smell the kerosene and the heavy scent of dried meat. I could taste blood. I tried to turn my head.

Suddenly, I realized why I was so disoriented. I was hanging upside-down with my wrists bound tightly behind me.

I had to free my hooves. With a surge of strength, I curled my chest upwards, towards my thighs, threw my tail out straight, and hooked my bound wrists behind my knees. My head began to spin and I thought that I might throw up, but I had to fight the nausea. Nothing was as important as escaping.

I had to blink a few times to focus, but I could see well enough now. There was some manner of pulleys hanging from the rafters that they had used to haul me up here. From the pulleys a hook, and from the hook a heavy length of chain. The chain was wrapped around my ankles and secured with a padlock.

Grr! Even if I had my hands free, there was no way I was going to be able to open the lock. The chain was really tearing into my ankles too. I couldn't feel my hooves and I wanted nothing more than to get my weight off that chain.

The hook! I thought that if I could just lift my weight off the hook, then perhaps I could shake the chain free.

"Pipe down, you!" a small, harsh voice snapped at me.

I ignored it and tried to twist this way and that to get a better look at the hook. Inside the hook was some manner of spring. The spring held a clasp inside the hook closed. There was no way the chain was coming free unless someone held the clasp back at the same time.

The sense of defeat was crushing. I lowered myself back down and let my stomach muscles rest.

"Where are my clothes?" I groaned. Even my small clothes were missing. "What the hell is going on here?" The small, wooden building shook with my bellows.

"I'll deal with you shortly, Mr. Cow!" snapped the squinty-eyed goblin I had met earlier.

Mr. Cow? That didn't even begin to make any sense!

Urlug was laying on his side. From the position, I could tell that his hands and feet had been tied. At least he still had his clothes.

It was hard to think, but I was relieved that Urlug was being kept in the same building, and didn't appear to be tied to anything like I was. Perhaps once Squinty left, the boy would be able to break free and then untie my hands. I looked around for sharp edges he could rub his bonds against. At worst, I figured, I could always try to chew through the rope.

Squinty was crouching beside his head, asking him questions. I could hear the boy sobbing.

"Urlug!" I yelled. The Goblin hissed at me, showing all of its pointy teeth, before returning its attention to its captive.

"So let me get this straight, little boy," his voice was slow, raspy and frightening, "you've never been to Orgrimmar, you're an orphan, and no one with even a copper to his name knows that you're here... or even cares that you're alive?"

"Hey! It's not like that!" I yelled. I could hear the poor boy wailing in terror.

In a single motion, Squinty leapt from the floor, up on top of the table. Despite their round shape, these things were as nimble as house cats.

Without a Goblin in the way, Urlug looked at me. He mouthed the word "Help!"

I looked up. The table was a solid thing with a thick wood-slab top. It was too tall to sit at, even for an Orc. A slot cut through the table's edge held an array of knives and cleavers. Squinty picked through them carefully before settling on a short, boning knife.

"Leave him alone!" I screamed. I struggled against my bonds, but they just bit harder into my wrists. My horns dug deep into the soft, pine floor boards, and suddenly I was swinging wildly from the hook.

"Leave him alone, you néchi!" I screamed my throat raw. I swung this way and that. The throbbing in my head became a pounding once more. The dizziness reverted to nausea.

I was swinging out of control; facing every direction but towards the Goblin.

The wall; the table; a Goblin crouched over an Orcish child; a wall; a door; a puddle of blood.

I could feel the darkness return, but this time I welcomed it.


	32. Assessment

Episode 9: Assessment

When my consciousness returned it was day again. The shed's door was wide open and the light was blinding. I couldn't focus, but I knew there was nothing that I wanted to see.

I took a deep breath and my chest made a wet, rattling noise. I could feel blood in my mouth and my sinuses now. At least I couldn't feel the pain in my ankles any more. Not a good thing, I was sure, but I was more than willing to trade numbness for pain.

Some one or some thing was climbing on me, like I was a tree. I was afraid it was a rat, but then I realized there were voices beyond the buzzing in my ears. Goblins... rats... whatever. Goblins were worse.

"49 inches," I heard a voice say, "...call it seven pounds... each, yeah of course, each."

"Urlug... are you there?" I mumbled.

"He's gone, Mr. Cow. I've tossed him to the crocolisks."

"You vermin! You heartless néchis..." I started coughing uncontrollably. Color doesn't usually make much of an impression on me, but the glob I coughed up was so vivid, so bright and red.

"Settle down, Mr. Cow. You have much more important concerns." I could hear Squinty writing. "Hide?"

"Sure, no point'n wastin' that. Put down a few silver for it."

"Keeping that?" I could hear Squinty suppress a laugh.

"Why, do you want it? You need a jump rope?" The other voice was laughing now. "Y'could use it to fright'n yer girlfriend."

"I think we're done here," Squinty said. "Would you mind totalling that up for me? Thanks... Mr. Cow... Mr. Cow? Are you with us, Mr. Cow?"

"When I get my strength back..." I rasped, "I'm going to tear out your intestines and force them down your throat."

"You're not getting your strength back. The longer you hang there, the weaker you will get. Besides, I'm trying to save your life, here. You do want me to save your life; don't you Mr. Cow?"

I didn't have a reply for the little beast so he stuck his hand in one of my nostrils and rocked my head back on my horns. He peered in my eye. "Do you want to live, Mr. Cow?"

"Yes," I said, spraying his overalls with a fine, red mist. He let my face drop back, hard, to the floor.

He crouched next to my left ear and began talking directly into it. "Then listen very carefully. This is important.

"You have a certain value to us. Mr. Beedle is working on that now... Thank you, Mr. Beedle... Mr. Beedle estimates that you would have a dressed weight of... roughly 450 pounds..."

"Where are my clothes?"

"You're not paying attention, Mr. Cow. Do you understand how important this is?"

"I'm trying to." I slurred a bit. "But my head hurts. The world keeps spinning."

"You must have a very thick skull, Mr. Cow. I was surprised you kept breathing after I hit you with that rock.

"Here is a tally... Open your eyes, Mr. Cow. Here is a tally of precisely what you are worth to us. Steaks, ribs, briskets, hamburger, sausage, soup stock... Mr. Beedle? Where's the choice cuts, Mr. Beedle? Where's the fillet?"

"Ain't got no tenderloin. He's a bipeed."

"Cannibals! You're cannibal vermin," I shouted.

A brief pause and then Squinty was talking in my ear once more. "No, Mr. Cow, we are not cannibals. Why, are you part Goblin? No, I think not. No, but I believe you are part cow, maybe more than part. You look very close to a cow to me.

"In fact, I'd bet... I'd place most any wager, that when Mr. Beedle slices off a slab of you, grills it to a nice medium-rare, and plops it down on my plate... well... I bet that I won't be able to tell the difference at all. Do you follow me?"

I nodded the best I could by rocking my head on my horns, and the room began to spin once more.

"So, Mr. Cow, if I let Mr. Beedle do what he does so well, then not only will there be delicious meaty treats for me to enjoy all month long..."

"Gotta' let th'meat hang for a couple'a weeks. Ages it. You'll be glad y'waited."

Squinty growled in frustration at the interruption. "The point is that having you over for dinner will save... three gold... and 84 silver... I'll round it up for you, Mr. Cow. You'll save me four pieces of gold off of my supply bills."

He gruffed loudly and took a moment to catch his breath. "So if you want to keep on breathing the air, then you should think of someone who values your carcass. Someone who thinks it is worth more than four pieces of gold.

"And, Mr. Cow, you should do it quickly."


	33. Ransom

Episode 10: Ransom

"I have gold," I explained, "I was trying to buy ore with the money."

"We found your purse when we subdued you."

"Then you know that I was trying to buy ore, not rob you!" Ow. Shouting made it worse.

"You're not paying attention, Mr. Cow. If Mr. Beedle turns you into cold-cuts, then I will still have that gold, won't I? It's on both sides of the equation," he said, pushing the paper in my face once more. "Who will give me additional money for not killing you?"

I tried to focus; really I did. "Like slavery? Do you want me to dig in the mine to work off your four gold?" Wow. I didn't know how much being a slave would "pay," but I bet it would take a lifetime to earn that much.

His laughter was awful. "And have you here, with me, every day, plotting your revenge? I think not, Mr. Cow. If we were in Alliance lands, perhaps. I could sell you to a farmer and have you pull a plow for the rest of your days. But I can't sell a Tauren here, and I know you're not worth the cargo fees."

"Grom'tuk!" Ow. "He has money. He'd pay a ransom. I'm sure of it."

"Grom'tuk? Where is he? Does he know you're here? Will he be coming to look for you?" I had his complete attention now.

"He's in... no, wait, by now he's on his way to Mulgore."

"Mulgore? On his way? No, that is very bad, Mr. Cow; very bad indeed. Too far away. I'd have to keep you well and fed for a very long time. I'd have to pay someone to search for this Grom'tuk. It would take a king's ransom to merit that sort of effort. There's no way you're worth that much money.

"Think!"

Ugh. Everyone I knew was in Mulgore. "Well, in Orgrimmar..."

"Orgrimmar is good. Very close to here," Squinty interrupted.

"She's kind'a my girlfriend..."

"Kind'a? Kind'a? 'Kind'a' is bad."

"Of course, she's my girlfriend," I corrected, "She's crazy about me. She would do anything to make sure I was not harmed." I tried to smile and look sincere.

"Good. She would pay 21 gold?"

It was more money than I had ever seen in my life. "21? I thought you said I was worth four."

That really pushed Squinty over the edge. Now he was yelling in my face, spraying my fur with spit. "Transportation! Bribes! Risk! There's no risk in grinding you up, but ransom equals risk! If you want me to take a risk then there better be some profit in it!"

Everything seemed so futile. The elders in my utankan would say, "Never give up. Never surrender," but I never imagined being in a situation as devoid of hope as this was.

I could drag Kaja into this mess and possibly put her life at risk too, and for what? For a couple more days of life? Would she be able to come up with such a high ransom? Would she even be willing? We really didn't even know each other that well. I could bankrupt her or put her in a position to say "no".

I felt low and worthless, but I refused to beg: "I don't want you to eat me."

Squinty made a "pssht" sort of noise. "I'm sure that every steak has some place that it would rather be, than on the plate."

I didn't blubber. I didn't whimper. But I could feel my eyes tearing up, so I closed them and waited for the tears to stop.

"Oh there, there. I'm sorry I upset you, Mr. Cow." He sounded exasperated.

Squinty stood and patted my chest with his little, clawed hand. "I like you. I'll tell you what, Mr. Cow; I'll let you hang upside-down until then. You'll be so dizzy, you won't even see it coming, okay?"


	34. The Black Cauldron

Episode 11: The Black Cauldron

Squinty let me hang and I did get dizzier. With the blood pounding in my ears, it was getting hard to hear. My cough was getting worse too. Blood dried around my mouth and crusted in my nose.

I drifted in and out and soon the shadows grew long. The cliffs cast the area into a twilight.

"You about ready, Mr. Beedle?"

"Nope." I had seen him sharpening knives throughout the day, busying himself with this or that. I tried to talk to him, but he didn't seem like a sympathetic sort. There was no way he would let me escape. "Too warm out. Way too warm. Roun'bout midnight, I s'pect."

"Midnight? This isn't some sort of Druidic ceremony, this is cutting meat."

"Slaughterins' cold-weather work. Weren't nev'r supposed to be done in dar' summer. If'n I cut him open now, those flies'd be all over him. You want maggots in yer steak? No, I s'pect you don't."

Squinty hurried off in a huff and left Mr. Beedle chuckling. The butcher looked me in the eye once we were alone. He smiled and put his mouth to my ear so that no one else would hear. "Tell ya' what I'ma gonna' do..."

My heart started racing a mile-a-minute. Did I actually get through to him? Did he see how cruel and wrong this was?

"When ya' butcher a critter, ya' gotta' cut dem' balls off first. Yup. You leave 'em on and they taint the meat." My stomach did a few flips. It's a good thing it was empty. "Best actually to take 'em off when they just a calf, but hey, not much we can do 'bout that now, eh?"

Again, I had no response, so I just stared at the horrible little creature crouching beside my face.

"So here's what I do for you, okay? I wait until he bleeds you out a bit. That way you don't feel it so long."

I just closed my eyes and waited for him to leave.

It grew dim, and then dark.

I started feeling giddy. I was no less helpless than before, but everything seemed funnier and less desperate for some reason.

Mr. Beedle lit a lantern. A Goblin I didn't recognize (so I nicknamed him Fatso) gathered some wood and lit a fire in the fire pit. Squinty rolled out a large, cast iron pot towards the fire.

The pot was huge, ten gallons at least. It completely obscured the goblin as he pushed it. I started laughing at him so hard that I couldn't stop.

Mr. Beedle approached, with a bucket of soapy water in hand. That seemed hilarious too. I started laughing at him as well, and couldn't seem to stop. I wished I could wipe the tears from my eyes. The little Goblin just stared at the mad, laughing cow, waiting for me to finish.

Finally getting momentary control over myself, I chortled, "You're never going to fit me in that tiny pot!"

Mr. Beedle dunked a rag into the soapy water. "Gotta' boil d'head," he said.

The pot stopped being so funny.

The butcher scampered up and down my back, washing my ankles and hooves with the rag and then dunking it back in the bucket. Drips of soapy water ran down my legs, like giant tears.

The air was getting cold and I hadn't seen any flies in quite some time. Squinty lifted my head by a nostril and stared in my eyes. "How are you doing in there, Mr. Cow?"

"I've felt better," I moaned.

"That's a damn shame, Mr. Cow. I thought you'd be more out of it by now," he said "You're out of time."


	35. The Only Weapon Left

Episode 12: The Only Weapon Left

It was getting really hard to catch my breath and nearly impossible to concentrate. "I still don't understand why you wouldn't sell me any ore."

"Your story is obviously a lie. Orgrimmar wouldn't have sent you, so therefore you must be a bandit. This is our hospitality for bandits." Squinty gestured grandiosely with the boning knife he held. "You're welcome!"

"But Orgrimmar hasn't received a shipment in months." I resisted shaking my head as I feared I might lose consciousness again.

"Lies and also lies!" he snapped. "We haven't missed a shipment since that one sandstorm..." he flipped through pages on a ledger, "...thirteen months and three weeks ago. I watched the loading of every last shipment, and have initialed each entry here." He tried shoving the paperwork in my face, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Perhaps the shipments didn't make it?" I was reaching; looking for any doubts he might have had.

"Ha! You wish. My brother-in-law, Nuzak, operates the shipping company. If there was a problem with one shipment, he would have said something when he picked up the next." He squinted at me even harder than usual, as if trying to figure out what I was up to.

My head was feeling fuzzy again... not now... please not now... "Maybe he sold the ore to someone else?"

"Inconceivable!" the little beast barked. "Orgrimmar is the mine's largest customer. Even if Nuzak found someone willing to pay more, they wouldn't have bought it all. Orgrimmar would still be receiving some of the shipments. Ergo, you are a liar, and soon to be perishables."

"Well... well..." Think! Think, damn you! Fight through the dizziness! "perhaps he didn't deliver it."

"Oh, and he just acted like he did?" The little creep pranced in front of me just to emphasize his point. "I suppose he paid me my share out of his own purse, and just pretended he was selling the ore.

"Why, Mr. Cow, why in this fantasy world of yours would my brother-in-law part needlessly with so much of his own gold? Just to piss off Thrall?"

I felt so dizzy; so tired. I didn't want to have this conversation, and to try to come up with things that I couldn't possibly know. I just wanted to sleep; to lay down and sleep.

Squinty was so angry that he got in my face and screamed. He held open one of my eyes so that I couldn't look away. "Do you have any idea what Thrall would do if we refused to ship him ore? We're only two days away from Orgrimmar. He would march his troops in here and slaughter every last one of us!"

I started giggling. In my mind I saw Thrall, the mighty warchief, mining for lead in a dirty hole. "Thrall must be pretending he didn't receive them," I said. "Perhaps he wants to be a miner." It made sense to me at the time. "Or perhaps he wants his army to mine lead." I wasn't trying to goad him. It just came out that way.

"You are a stupid, stupid cow. You don't understand anything about how the world works, do you? If we wouldn't provide Thrall with ore, then he'd take the mine and sell it to someone who would."

Now, Thrall was wearing a admiral's hat, and dancing a little jig in my mind. Squinty's brother-in-law, Nuzak, was playing the accordion for him. "He should sell the mine to your brother-in-law, Nuzak." The giggling returned.

"Exactly," the Goblin agreed, "someone ruthless, like Nuzak, could buy the mine for only a few silver on the gold..." There was a long-ish pause. "And then deliver the ore he didn't deliver earlier... and make back the money he had invested..." The little creature suddenly seemed a lot less sure of himself. "...And a healthy profit..."

"I'm sorry, Squinty, that was a mean thing for me to say, just now. I hope you will forgive me." I meant it. I really did feel sorry. The Goblin just stared, speechless. "No one would kill off family." I tried to make that "pssht" sound of his to show how stupid I had been. "For what? Gold?"

He stared in silence, his little mouth hanging open. Then he said the funniest thing I had ever heard in my entire life. In retrospect, it didn't seem so witty, but at the time it was hilarious. "We're all going to die..."

Squinty backed away from me, but I was rocking back and forth from the hook, laughing as hard as I could laugh. "We're all going to die!" I screamed. "We're all going to die!"

He backed towards the fire, and so did Mr. Beedle. Fatso came out, and all the other Goblins as well. I kept on screaming that we were all going to die. Screaming and laughing my lungs out, while what looked like the entire Goblin nation gathered around the campfire to talk.

Someone stepped inside the shed with me and closed the door. My little joke stopped being funny again. But I didn't want that feeling to go away, so I tried to spark it up again, "Did you know that we're all going to die, Johnny?"


	36. Revolt

Episode 13: Revolt

While the Goblins argued, Johnny lowered the pulley.

"I think that Squinty-eyed Goblin has the key," I told him, but Johnny had already picked the lock and was helping me to my hooves. I had a very hard time standing and focus was hard to maintain, but the sudden change in fortune energized me.

Johnny unsheathed both of his daggers and I grabbed the length of chain. I would have rather had my hammer, but that was still in the cart.

"Hold on one moment," I told the Forsaken as I paused to pick up Mr. Beedle's lantern. "It's dark out there."

From the look in the rogue's eyes, I suspected that Johnny would have preferred that we crept away while the Goblins were distracted.

I had no intention of leaving here with my tail between my legs.

I hit the door hard with the side of my fist and was rewarded with the sound of splintering wood and twisting metal. The crowd of Goblins gathered around the fire gasped with a single voice as the shed's door fell flat. I stepped out on top of it and looked out across the miners. There were more of them than I wished to count, so I hurled the lantern, spilling kerosene and flame across the unlucky. High-pitched shrieks filled the air.

The Goblins had been quick to attack when we were unarmed, but now that the tables were turned, they chose to flee. We didn't pursue them, but those who moved too slowly tasted my iron or Johnny's steel.

"Where did they go?" I said, my head still spinning a little.

Johnny pointed to the mouth of the mine. If they thought that I would not follow them into that darkness, then they were correct.

"Who's left?" Only a handful of injured Goblins remained. They clutched their wounds or tried to crawl to sanctuary.

I flipped them over one by one to see if I recognized any. It was my lucky day; Squinty hadn't left just yet.

"I've got some work to do. Hold this one for me," I told the Forsaken.

I limped to the dynamite shed and unloaded their entire stock, everything but a single barrel of black powder, and carefully stacked it up at the mouth of mine. I removed the barrel's bung and poured roughly half of the powder over the pile. Then I set the barrel on top of that before reclaiming the wounded Goblin.

He struggled a bit and probably plead for his life. It was all just noise to me. I chained him tightly to the barrel and snapped the padlock fast to hold it in place.

A quick search revealed my purse (with gold still inside), but not my clothes, so I borrowed another lantern and a small, Goblin blanket from the bunkhouse. I tied the ends of blanket above my tail, like a kilt, and handed the burning lantern to Johnny. "If you see anyone try to come out of that mine, you toss this in Mr. Squinty's lap, okay?"

Johnny nodded and I knelt down to have one last chat with my former captor.

"I'm going to take that load of ore, the one that I came for. I've travelled too far now to go back empty-handed. And, I've suffered too deeply to leave you any payment. That doesn't make us 'even'. Nothing ever will."

He didn't respond and I didn't look back.

I loaded the ore into the cart. As Urlug had predicted, it took a very long time. Longer yet, since I had no one to share the burden, or to keep the mood light with jokes, stories, or even complaints. It was just me and the heavy rocks.

I tried not to dwell on the profound sadness I felt, or on how I had failed the boy. He may not have died in some foreign land, but the Goblins had cheated him out of a proper burial. Now, more than ever before, I understood the true weight of Grom'tuk's words.

The Goblins didn't try to retaliate, and I was thankful that that we could leave without further violence.

With a pat to the nose, and a tug on the lead, we were underway once more.

On that long walk back to Orgrimmar, I was kind of glad that Johnny was not the talkative type. I only had two words to share with him, and I was sure he knew I meant it.


	37. Closure

Episode 14: Closure

"Mi see dat dig still runnin'," Xon'cha shouted when he saw us rolling up.

"They had some problems with shipping," I told him, "but I suspect they will straighten it out soon."

I unloaded my gear and handed it to Johnny. "Can you take care of this for a while, my friend?" He responded by putting his hand on my shoulder, and I thanked him.

Without asking, I removed a heavy, canvas sack from Xon'cha's office and I filled it with ore. When it was as full as I could manage, I tied it closed and heaved the load over my shoulders.

"I delivered two of those conscriptions, but Devil's Spire has been razed, and there was no one left to accept the third.

"I fetched the Horde's ore and I returned it back here. I don't know what fair compensation is for all those tasks, but I'm in a generous mood, so I'll accept some of the ore as payment, instead." I was in no mood to deal with the red- haired Troll, and so that would have to do.

# # #

Kaja wore an oily cloth apron today, to protect her regular clothes. She sat behind a work table, assembling a rifle.

"I didn't think you were coming back." Her face showed a mix of worry and relief.

"I was afraid I wouldn't make it." I set the ore down inside the door. My smile was genuine. I hated to see her worry about me, but it warmed me inside to think that she might.

"You look like hell." She set her apron on the table and took me by the hand. "Let's get you fixed up."

Kaja led me out of the valley and into The Drag. "Dare I ask what happened to your clothes?"

I folded my ears back so she wouldn't see them blush. "I ran into some... difficulties... with the Goblins," I said in lieu of an explanation.

"Bargained the clothes right off your back, did they?" She winked and smiled at me. "And I always thought that was just a figure of speech."

Despite my wounded ankles, I felt like I could walk on air. I didn't ever want to let her hand go.

She led me up a lot of stairs, and to a modest home that had been carved into the sandstone. She peeked her head around a corner, "Mom?"

A young Orc woman stepped out of the kitchen with a flour-covered apron. "Kaja? What are you doing here?" She had chiseled features and a mischievous smile. Kaja stooped over so that the woman could kiss her on the cheek. She grinned wide. "And who is your... nearly-naked friend?"

"Mother!" Kaja gasped, "Brick's been injured. Can you just help him, please?"

The woman took us both by the hand and led us inside, "Oh, if I can keep your father together throughout all of the centaur wars, then I'm sure I can fix this too."

"Mother?" I mouthed to Kaja.

"Agra and Gorrum raised me from a calf. Gorrum is an outrider. He and his men saved us when our village was raided. Agra is the only Mom I really remember."

She put a hand up to Kaja's cheek and cupped her face. "Oh, and she was a handful too. You grew up too fast, my dear, too fast."

# # #

Kaja was wearing her lace top as she swept the floor. She looked my way and put a fist on her hip. "For a guy without a gun, you sure come in here a lot."

"I'm sorry." I stared at the floor, worried that I had worn out my welcome. "I was just wondering if you had a shovel I could borrow."

"A shovel?"

"It's for a shteowachi," I explained.

Kaja stepped to the back of her shop and started sifting through a pile of dusty items. "I grew up with Orcs, so I don't know squat about Tauren rituals." She handed me a small, camp shovel. "But do you always bring a fishing pole to a funeral?"

"No, not usually." I looked at the pole in my hand and thought about how much I missed Urlug. "Perhaps you could come with me. I could show you."

# # #

A little north of Orgrimmar, the sand of Durotar gave way to the rich soil of Ashenvale. There, I built a bonfire and buried the fishing pole in a long, narrow hole. The hole wasn't very deep, but I didn't figure that it really needed to be. It's not like scavengers would dig it up.

I replanted a tiny sapling on top of it to symbolize rebirth.

It may sound strange, but my people believe that love is stored in the heart and grief in the lungs. So, I sang the old songs to speed Urlug's spirit on its way. I sang into the fire and I let the flames lift my air into the sky.

Kaja held my hand, and I think that helped too.


	38. Non sequitur: Rescued

Rescued

The night was dark and The Drag was empty, except for two giant grey wolves and their riders.

"I know it's late, but we're here, my dear."

The powerfully-built Orc slid from the saddle and handed the reins to his underling.

"Let me help you down. Be careful."

Gorrum coaxed the girl to relax her death-grip on the saddle's pommel. He took her in his hands and gently eased her down.

"You did very good. You were such a big girl. You rode that wolf like you were born on one." His smile was wide and reassuring. His big, white tusks reminded her a little of the horns that most people had on their heads.

"I wanna' go home!" she started to cry.

"I know you do. It's going to be okay."

The big Orc looked up from the child and tried to keep his voice quiet and non- threatening. "Would you please stable my mount?"

"Yes, sergeant," the younger man whispered. He attempted to salute, despite holding reigns in each hand.

"Come on now, just up these stairs." He took the girl's hand and led her towards a long column of stairs carved into sandstone. Her tiny hooves echoed ticks through the dark night.

At the top of the stairs, Gorrum unlocked the door, spilling only a little light into the dark home. Someone lit a candle and then headed out to meet them. "Gorrum? Is it you? Are you back?"

The candle was held by a tall, pretty Orc woman. Her black hair stuck up in funny directions, and she held her robe closed with one hand. The man and woman embraced immediately, holding each other tight.

He never let go of the little girl's hand.

"Daddy! Daddy!" came a shrill voice from the darkness. A tiny Orc child, about the same height as the girl, rushed out to welcome her father.

Gorrum dropped to his knees and embraced his daughter close, but the other girl burst into loud, miserable tears. "There, there, it's okay." He held both girls close to his chest and waited for the crying to stop. "It's going to be okay."

"Grima, this is Kaja," he said when the tears slowed. "Kaja lost her mommy and daddy; so she's very sad. She's going to stay with us for a little while, while we find the rest of her family, okay?

"Grima, do you think you could share your bed with Kaja?" The little girl nodded her entire head up and down to show that she would. "That's a good girl. Would you like to show her your room?"

Grima took Kaja's hand and tried to drag her away from Gorrum. Even in the dim light, Agra could see the child's lip tremble.

Agra stooped low and swooped up a child in each hand. Kaja put her arms around Agra's neck and buried her face in the robe.

"I'll grab the candle," Gorrum whispered, and the whole family made their way back to Grima's room.

Gorrum set the candle on a ledge. "I have to change out of my armor and get ready for bed, dear," he whispered to the little Tauren child.

"Don't go!" the little girl gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around the Orc's neck.

"I'm not going far, just into the next room. Grima will stay with you all night, and if you get scared, she can show you where I sleep, okay?"

Gorrum kissed Kaja and stroked her face with the side of his thumb until she relaxed her grip. Then he kissed Grima and Agra before leaving.

"Let's get you ready for bed. You must be very tired; its so late," Agra said, lowering the two to the ground.

Grima stared lovingly at the other little girl. She reached out and stoked her hair. "Your hair is so long... Can I have long hair too, Mommy?"

"You can grow your hair long if you want to, Grima," she said with a smile. Agra helped Kaja undo the antler buttons on her buckskin dress. "Can Kaja wear one of your nightgowns, Grima?"

Grima nodded her entire head. "She can wear the white one."

"You're already wearing the white one. Can she wear the pink one?"

Grima nodded again.

Agra peeled the dusty hide off the child, exposing her tan fur to the candle light.

Grima's eyes went wide with wonder. "Wow! You have a tail!"

Kaja, feeling alone and outcast, started to cry once more. She wrapped her arms around Agra's neck.

Grima, oblivious, reached out and stroked Kaja's tail. "It's so pretty."

Agra kissed Kaja's face and slipped the nightgown over her head.

"Mommy, can I have a tail too?"

Agra scooped the children up and sat them on the side of the bed so that only their feet dangled over the edge.

"Kaja's a Tauren, and Tauren have tails. Tauren have hooves and you have toes." She pinched at one and then the other. "Tauren have fur, and look, up on top of Kaja's head, Tauren have horns."

Agra wiped Kaja's tears with the hem of her robe.

"How about tomorrow, we take some wool cloth that I've saved and make Kaja a doll too? She can have a Tauren doll just like you have an Orc doll. Would you like that?"

A great big nod from Grima; a small, tentative nod from Kaja.

Agra tucked them in and kissed them both. Grima put her arms around the little, Tauren girl.

"Mommy," Grima whispered, "can I have a tail too?"

"I can put your hair in a pony tail. Won't that be pretty?" she whispered back.

A much smaller nod, but a nod, nonetheless.

"Gorrum and I will be in the next room. If you get scared, Grima will be with you. Do you think you'll be okay?"

A small nod, and perhaps the potential for a smile.


	39. Part IV: Heart to Heart

Episode 1: Heart to Heart

I tried to tap on the door, but my fingers stopped before they hit the wood. I tried again, but couldn't, so I gave up and started walking down the steps. Then I felt stupid, so I walked back up the steps, and thought about knocking on the door some more.

Then I realized that asking for advice is stupid, because I should be able to work things out for myself. After all, I wasn't a little calf, anymore. So I turned around to leave, only to bump into Agra at the top of the stairs.

"Hello Brick, I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on," she said with a giggle. "Did you come to visit?"

"Yes, but I... I can... If you'd rather..."

She handed me a large burlap bag. "Hang on to the potatoes while I unlock the door. Come in, come in."

Agra seemed really happy. The Orcs are a very happy people, but Agra seemed to be on the edge of laughter. "How are your ankles feeling? And that bump on the head? Did you take all the herbs I gave you?"

"I feel much better Agra. Yes, I took them all, like you told me to. Thank you."

I ducked deeply and came inside. It was a pretty home. Not fancy, but comforting. It smelled of nice food and unfamiliar spices.

"Oh dear, our ceilings are just not tall enough for you. Would you rather sit?"

"Okay," I said. I sat down where I was.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Um... no... thank you."

Agra took the potatoes to the kitchen. I could hear her giggling from where I sat, but she stopped before she returned. She pulled a chair over to me and sat down too. "So you didn't need any more herbs, then what was it you needed?"

"I... uh..." Why was I having such problems talking? It's like I wanted to say everything and nothing at the same time, and the nothing was winning out. "I... wanted... to... ask your advice."

She grinned some more and waited for me to continue.

Gah. Why was this so hard? "It's about Kaja... I met her a while ago... and then again yesterday... and I... but I don't think she..." Words were coming out, but none of them were making any sense.

I took a deep breath. Agra wasn't helping. I thought that perhaps I was scaring her, because a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away and pretended it was not there. "Perhaps I should go..."

"No, stay," she interrupted immediately, putting her hands over mine. "What is it that's upsetting you about Kaja?"

"She's... Tauren... but she's not... and I don't know how... because I'm not an Orc... and I thought that you... since you're an Orc... and a girl..."

Someone was coming in the door. I exhaled all of my air in frustration. Why was this so much harder than fighting with Goblins?

A burly Orc, smelling strongly of wolf, walked in. He wore a chain mail jerkin, leather pants, and a tabard of the Horde outriders. A one-handed axe hung at his side. He was young, like Agra. He kept his black hair short, and tied back in a knot. "Agra...?" he said, peeking at me.

In a flash, she was standing at his side, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Brick, this is my husband, Gorrum." I started to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder to tell me not to bother. I shook his hand. It was such a little, tiny thing.

"Brick has a crush on Kaja..." she blurted out, as if the words were hot coals on her tongue.

"That's not true, sir! I would never hurt Kaja!" I tried to get up, but he restrained me again. He didn't seem alarmed, despite the accusation.

"No, she means that you would like to take our daughter out," he explained.

"Take her out where?"

"That you wish to date her."

"I'm sorry, sir?" I didn't understand the word.

Gorrum wiped his face with a gauntlet. Agra buried her face in the back of Gorrum's tabard and continued to giggle relentlessly. "You're not making this any easier, woman..."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Listen Brick, you should really talk to Gorrum about this. I'll go."

"Oh no, is it taboo for men to talk to Orc women?"

"Just... just talk to Gorrum..." she said as she rushed to the kitchen. I heard her laughter overwhelm her once she left. It could also have been the wail of tears. I'm not sure. Agra confused me greatly.

"Brick," Gorrum said, he seemed very tired, "I don't know if I can have this conversation with you." He flopped down on the chair that Agra had vacated. He removed his gauntlets and threw them down on the floor.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should..."

"I adopted Kaja when she was just a few months old, and by the time she was two, she was taller than me. Two!" He laid back in the chair and sighed. "My friends teased me that soon I'd be having this conversation with some young bull... That I'd sharpen my axe while they asked to go out with her... That I'd put the fear of my wrath into them, should they touch my little girl." He made a fist, and grinned wide.

"I wasn't ready then. Not even close. She was still the baby girl I held in one arm. By the time she was three, I think I was ready, or as ready as I was ever going to be. But by then she was a grown woman; smart, independent. By four, she had moved out and started her own business. Five... Six... Seven..." He shook his head, as if in disbelief. "It isn't fair, you know?

"I saved her life. We gave her a loving family. But did I cheat her by bringing her to Orgrimmar? I made a choice for her out of love. But was it fair?"

I really wanted to respond. He wanted me to say something, but I didn't understand what he was talking about. What did he mean about his axe? What wasn't fair? Cheated? Kaja's age? I couldn't seem to connect up these random items.

"How I dreaded this day... you can't imagine. I was terrified, really I was. I knew I would be more frightened than you would be. But there were no Tauren here in Orgrimmar. Oh, one or two, passing through, but this day never happened.

"My beautiful baby girl. Seven. That would be an old maid by Tauren standards, right?"

He waited for an answer. "An old... I... don't understand..." This was getting us nowhere. I needed to assert myself. "Sir, my problem is this: When I last visited her, she said that it was strange that I go to her shop all the time, when I don't own a gun. Does that mean that she does not want me to go to her shop? Should I buy a gun?"

Gorrum rested his chin in his palm. He stared at me a long time before speaking. "No Brick, if you don't need a gun, then you shouldn't buy one." He smiled and his eyes sparkled.

"Brick, what you need to do is go talk to Kaja. If she asks why you're there, then you tell her that you came to see her. Don't make up an excuse. You should tell her that you like her. You should visit her every day and spend every minute that you can with her.

"If she doesn't want to see you, then she'll tell you to leave. She's a big girl and not afraid to speak her mind."

"But that is not the Tauren way..." I tried to explain.

"Kaja doesn't know beans about Taurens. She's lived almost her entire life here, with Orcs.

"Do this for me... make the most of every minute you have, so that you don't miss them when they're gone."


	40. New Gear

Episode 2: New Gear

I wandered for a while after speaking with Kaja's parents. I had spent some of my earnings on some new leather clothing, but most of it remained.

In the Valley of Honor, I found a shop called The Burning Anvil. Unsurprisingly, they did not have any armor that would fit my breadth, but the blacksmith, a sharp Orcish woman named Tumi, would not let that cost her a sale. Before I could say another word, she and her twin sister, Sumi, were measuring my every dimension for a brand-new set.

My knowledge of metalworking is very limited, but apparently multiple pieces of smaller, Orcish armor can be opened at the seams and the sheets of mail can be reused to make Tauren-sized armor. It would take time, of course, to make such extensive modifications, but not nearly as long as if they had to make my gear from scratch.

As I stood there, posed this way or that, I had a lot of time to contemplate Gorrum's words. It was not the Tauren way to chase after a cow. The Tauren way was to fight with the other bulls, and then the largest and strongest Tauren could then claim the cows.

But there were no other bulls here, and there were no other cows. Did that make her my herd by default? It seemed unlikely that it was that simple. There had to be more to it than that.

Gorrum had wanted me to talk to Kaja and to spend time with her. I couldn't quite understand why he wanted me to do that, but it was clear that it would make him happy.

I found myself thinking about Kaja all the time, and so I figured that it would probably make me happy as well.

From The Burning Anvil, I went next door to the Arms of Legend, where a bald Orc with a long, red beard was grinding an edge onto a new axe. I tried out the various weapons that he had in the shop, but nothing seemed to fit me. Everything he had seemed too small for my hands, and too light for me to really swing.

"I'm afraid I would break this thing," I said, handing back his largest axe.

"You would not, I promise," Galthuk said with a grin, "but still, it does not suit you."

The blacksmith did not seem worried. He had me lift and swing various heavy items he had around the shop and he tried to get a good gauge of how much weight I could manage. He handed me some bar stock and measured the span in my grip.

He seemed very excited to have been given such a challenge.

From there, I wandered back to Kaja's shop. She was wearing the oily apron again, and it was covered with tiny wood chips. She had a block of oak locked in a vice, and was using a two-handed draw knife to work it into the shape of a rifle stock.

She looked up, and gave me half a smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Your father said that I should tell you that I came to see you."

She stared at me blankly for a long time. Then she set the knife down and rested a fist on her hip. "You spoke with my dad?"

"Yes, he said that I should take you out somewhere."

She closed her eyes for a moment and gave her head a small shake, as if she was hearing things. "Where?"

I pulled up a stool and sat across the workbench from her. "I'm not really sure. He tried to explain it, but I didn't understand the words."

"Wow. I'm really confused now. Why were you speaking with Dad?"

"I wanted his advice. I like you, and he thought I should tell you that."

She gave me a genuine smile. "I like you too, Brick."


	41. A Brick Through the Consulate Window

Episode 3: A Brick Through the Consulate Window

Over the days that followed, I spent every possible moment with Kaja. We talked; we held hands; we shared our meals. We shared cherished memories of our childhoods. Just being around her made me feel good.

While she worked, I studied with Sayoc, the grim Orcish weapon master, and Sorek, the cynical warrior trainer. Sayoc trained me to use the axe that Galthuk had crafted, and how to use my size and strength to my advantage. Sorek explained the sorts of tactics that a smaller opponent would try to use against me. There were a lot of strategies to use and they were surprisingly difficult to master. It was very clear that this was going to take a long time.

Johnny made a wonderful sparring partner. He never seemed to grow tired and he never complained.

He was also surprisingly slippery. By the time that the wooden sparring guard on my axe got to where he was, he was already somewhere else. For a dead guy, he sure seemed to flow effortlessly around me.

Because of our relationship, Sorek nicknamed him Mortar. It seemed to give the rogue a sense of pride. I doubt anyone else could see that, but then again, no one spent quite as much time with Johnny as I did.

While taking a break from practice one day, a young Troll approached us. He was bald on the top and had a bright ring of yellow hair that circled his pate. He wore a long skirt of simple cloth.

"Greetin', Tauren!" he said, "Y'deh one dey callin' 'Brick'?" He spoke in surprisingly clear Orcish, for a Troll.

"I am, and you are...?"

"Arms master Sorek, 'ow goes d'trainin' a dis young warrior?" he called as my instructor walked by.

"This one? Feh. All of his muscle is located between his ears. He would not last a minute in real combat!" Sorek continued on his way, yelling at other pupils as they practiced.

"Ah t'ink he impressed," the Troll said once Sorek was out of ear shot, "usually he far more negative."

I offered him some water, but he declined.

"M'name's Searn Firewarda. I 'eard from an outridah dat you 'ad quite a tangle wit' dem Goblins."

My vision fell to my hooves. "Yes, I'm afraid... I hope my actions have not started a war."

"Wouldn't worry 'bout it," the Troll said. He seemed to smile, but with such large tusks, it was difficult for me to tell. "Deh Goblins dun go ta war.

"I could, 'owever, use someone such as y'self - someone who can t'ink on 'im feet - onna very impartant mission."

"A mission?"

"Yeh, dere's a very influential Troll known as Al'tabin de All-Seein'," he explained. "'E lives on Yojamba Isle, in de contested territory a Stranglethorn Vale. I would verra much like fi 'im t'come ta Orgrimmah 'n' meet wit' T'rall.

"If T'rall could win favor wit' Al'tabin, den p'raps more Zandali would cast dere lot in wit' de 'Orde, an' 'elp us in a struggles."

I was confused. "But aren't the Trolls already in league with the Horde?"

"By an' large, yeh," he agreed, "but dere a many tribes a Trolls, just as dere be many tribes a Tauren. Most tribes fight fi us, others still squabble 'gainst one anotha. Dis a terrible waste.

"Al'tabin's well-respected by all. Me hopes a dat we can improve our standin' wit' Al'tabin an' use 'is influence ta unite some a de squabblin' tribes ta fight wit' us, instead a 'gainst each other."

I certainly couldn't imagine myself as an ambassador. I thought that my job was supposed to be hitting enemies with an axe, not talking to foreign leaders. I had a hard enough time talking to Xon'cha! "Wouldn't it be better to send a Troll, such as yourself, or someone with some diplomatic experience?"

"I gone," he sighed. "Others 'ave too, but 'e views everyone we send as unwort'y. T'be honest, I dun 'spect you ta succeed, but if y'did, it could mean a great deal ta Trall an' de 'Orde. Will ya dweet?"

"It would be an honor."


	42. Farewell

Episode 4: Farewell

I burst into Boomstick Imports, huffing and puffing. The added weight of my armor making the run from the Valley of Honor all the more strenuous. A wall of heat hit me as I entered. The forge was burning today.

"Are you okay, Brick?" Kaja said, clearly worried.

"I have to go," I told her. "I've been given a mission to Stranglethorn Vale."

The piece she had been forming clattered to the floor and she rushed close to me. "Stranglethorn Vale? But that's in the Eastern Kingdoms, across the Great Sea."

I'm sure she could see it in my face. This would take us a world apart.

"When will you be back?" I thought I saw her lip tremble.

"I don't know," I whispered, "The zeppelin leaves within the hour."

She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her heavy leather apron up against my armor. I embraced her too. I buried my face in the short fur on her neck. I could smell her sweet sweat, her worry. Though strong and powerful, she felt tiny and frail this moment. I thought she shook slightly.

"Please hurry back to me," she whispered in my ear. She looked me in the eyes and I felt like I could melt into that deep brown. "Try to hurry back."

Then she pressed her lips to mine. I was startled, but I let myself sink into the embrace. Her tongue was inside my mouth, touching, caressing me intimately. It was strange at first, but then wonderful. I pulled her close to me; one hand between her broad shoulders, and the other cupping a bare buttock, lifting her up towards my face. It was a moment that I wished would never end.

Then she pulled slightly away. "I feel dizzy," I whispered with the stupidest of grins.

She smiled and hugged me close once more.

If that was an Orc farewell, then it's a wonder that anyone has ever left.

# # #

And in what seemed like moments, we were gone; sitting with our gear in a zeppelin's berths. The engine sputtered to life and I didn't need to look out the porthole to know that Orgrimmar would be shrinking into the distance. I could feel it in my heart.

Between my thumb and primary finger, I held a small, braided lock of brown hair.

Hair is wonderful at holding aromas. On it I could smell the entire shop; her sweat, and even her tears.

When I could bear it no longer, I wrapped the tress in my bedroll, beside the simple necklace.

I laid back on the cot and listened to the Goblins as they bustled around the ship, calling out orders and acknowledging them. This voyage would be the longest seven days of my life. I knew that many more days would follow, apart from Kaja, but at least I would be busy then.

There was nothing more for me to do now than wait.


	43. Grom'gol

Episode 5: Grom'gol

I don't have much to share about the voyage itself. When viewed from the air, the ocean is as featureless as it is endless. No matter how awe-inspiring it may seem at first, the sea quickly turns dull; mind-rendingly dull.

I didn't know if any of the Goblins aboard were related to those injured at the Boulder Lode mine, and you can bet that I didn't ask. The last thing I needed to do was to give my shipmates an excuse for vigilantism! For all they needed to know, I was just another Tauren.

Oh yes, two other things: First... Not to be crude, but there is no graceful way to take a dump off of the side of a ship. It simply can't be done. The best you can hope for is to have to go at night, when you can have some semblance of privacy.

And second, when you go, make sure you tie yourself in. If you were to fall overboard, then there would be little chance that you would survive the impact, and even less chance that the ship would circle back around to search for you.

We spotted land on the morning of the seventh day. I was very relieved that an end to the journey was finally in sight, but I was not prepared for just how humid the jungle would be.

In the desert and the plains, I had experienced extreme heat many times, but the humidity here grabbed your lungs and made it feel hard to breathe. It was strange, really. You could breathe, but the hot, moist air made your brain panic, as if it feared that you were drowning. I was very glad that this sensation did not last more than a day, before I could acclimate.

Before long, I could see the crudely sharpened vertical logs that formed the wall around Grom'gol.

Grom'gol Base Camp was an Orcish outpost in northern Stranglethorn Vale. It was located on the country's western coast, in a large bay known as The Vile Reef. The town itself was little more than a walled fishing village, a zeppelin tower, and a healthy stream of supplies imported to support the region's troops.

Johnny and I disembarked the zeppelin and explored the tiny fort. Without a doubt, the best (if not the only) thing about Grom'gol was the food. Everything I had there was wonderful and unusual. They had all sorts of strange fruits and freshly-caught sea creatures. I left my leftover rations with my gear and ate until I thought I might burst.

When I could no longer bear the sight of fresh food, I made a few inquiries and managed to charter a boat for the next morning. With nothing left to do, I stowed my gear and spent the rest of the day enjoying the beach.

Everyone needs to play once in a while, and there was no better place for it than the surf. I had never seen such large waves before, and the water was warm and refreshing. Exploring the reef and sunning myself in the sand went a long way towards reawakening muscles numbed by motorized travel. It even took an edge off of my thoughts for Kaja.

# # #

At first light, we set sail for Yojamba Isle in a small fishing boat named Icense Yuutee (The Lucky Strike). The voyage would take us three more days north.

The boat followed the coast, and the captain, a charming, bare-chested Troll by the name of Ran, pointed out some of the villages as we passed. Some were friendly to outsiders and some were not. So travelling on the beach itself was a dicey proposition.

Even though we would remain within sight of land at all times during my portion of the voyage, we would not be going ashore. We would simply lay anchor and spend our nights aboard.

I was fascinated to see and learn more (this was the first time I had ever been on a boat, after all), but the ship continued to rock and sway excessively, no matter where I stood. I tried to fight it, but I could feel myself getting ill. Before long, I had jettisoned my breakfast over the port bow, and was forced to drop back below decks to rest my queasy stomach.

# # #

Besides the captain, the only other sailor aboard was an old, grey-haired Troll with a sunken chest. He spoke precious little and, to my surprise, he seemed to get along with Johnny quite well.

I spent most of my time with Ran. He was a fascinating and colorful character. He had a story for every occasion, and there wasn't one of them that I dared repeat.

However, despite the diversity of his tales, his stories tended to follow a fairly consistent pattern. He told me about how he would sail to a distant village, and meet a beautiful Troll woman who was amply blessed with an abundance of one attribute or another that Ran found pleasing. Then they would celebrate their mutual interest in ways that would vary from the gymnastic to the downright aerobatic. And then finally, Ran would retreat back to the seclusion of his boat to recover. This generally happened either in the dark of night, or involved being chased by a rival suitor.

Operating a fishing boat and sailing the seas seemed to be the least interesting things in a life otherwise filled with adventure and conquest.

On the second night of our voyage, Ran drank heavily of a local rum. I tried it too, but it had too strong a flavor for me to enjoy. The more he drank, the louder he became, and the more outlandish and improbable were his stories.

He told me of two Troll sisters that he had bedded simultaneously, of an Orcish infantry woman, and even of a young Troll man who lived as a hermit. I did not ask if the Orcish woman had borne him any offspring, but it hardly seemed plausible. I couldn't understand why he would even have tried.

As for the hermit... well, clearly there were things I did not yet understand about Zandali anatomy and reproduction. Apparently my assumption that our species really only differed in size and shape was... erroneous.

The next day, the normally sunny-spirited Ran looked quite ill and run-down. I felt so bad for the captain. I had presumed that you would eventually get used to the boat's rocking and swaying, but I guess you never do. It must make for a very hard life.

I spent much of the rest of the day thinking about Kaja. I was glad that she had been raised by Orcs instead of Trolls. Troll mating rituals seemed quite complex and I was glad that she would not expect such things of me.


	44. Al'tabin the AllSeeing

Episode 6: Al'tabin the All-Seeing

In the afternoon, we docked at Yojamba Isle. I paid Ran for the journey; and Johnny and I disembarked while Ran and his first mate loaded and unloaded supplies. From here, they would sail west for a few days and fish for tropical squid. After that, they would return to pick us up and then sail back South to Grom'gol.

Yojamba was a small island of little economic or strategic importance. It was, however, culturally significant to the Zandali. The Island appeared in many ancient Troll legends.

Here and there, I could see remnants and ruins of what must have been glorious ancient structures. I wished I could have seen what the island looked like millennia ago, when the construction was intact.

From the dock, I walked up a short path to the central village. I spoke with the baker, bought some steamed buns, and got directions to the central temple. I could really get accustomed to life on an island. The food was delicious, the weather was beautiful, the air fragrant, and the exotic, local birds were not only a symphony to the ears, but a feast for the eyes as well.

The central temple was the most "restored" looking of all the ruins. Part of the building actually had a roof, although it was clearly not the original. The floor was tiled in clay, and no matter how quietly I tried to tread, my hoof strikes echoed throughout. There were large gaps in the stone walls, but the jungle behind them was dense. The lighting was deeply muted, even now, at mid- day.

I found Al'tabin with little assistance. He was an older Troll; lean and stringy. He wore only a long, batik skirt, and a leather necklace that was decorated with crocolisk teeth. He sat cross-legged with his eyes closed before some great stone tablet. A pleasant, woody incense burned in a small, clay bowl beside him.

I did not wish to interrupt Al'tabin's meditation and I did not want to loom over the great man as he attended to his spiritual needs. So I took a seat on the floor and waited for him to finish.

And I waited.

At some point, I must have drifted off. I awoke with a start.

"Wa mek dere big Tarren sleep a mi temple?"

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." It had clearly grown late and the braziers hanging on the walls had been lit. I scrambled to my feet and stooped my head in reverence. "I was waiting for you to finish meditating, and, well, I guess I didn't get much sleep last night."

I hoped that I had not offended him. It would be awful to travel so far, only to alienate Al'tabin with my first meeting. He did not speak.

"I came here to ask you a favor."

He made a foul face and cocked his head to one side and then the other. "Mi dun know ya." He turned and began to walk away.

I hurried to keep up. "No, sir, you don't know me, but I know you. I know of your reputation among the Zandali. And I was hoping..."

He surprised me by stopping in his tracks. "New bizniss a dis?"

"Um, yes sir, new business, I suppose."

He nodded his head and continued walking.

"I was hoping that you would come with me, to Orgrimmar, and discuss things with Thrall."

"Ah..." he said, but he continued to walk.

"I know that others have come down here and asked the same thing, but I was hoping... I'm sure Thrall..."

He turned to face me, and fixed me with eyes the color of the sea. "Al'tabin nah dween what a T'rall tell 'im. De spirits tell Al'tabin what 'im do."

"Um, no sir." I chased after him again. "But Thrall, like you, is very wise. Perhaps... perhaps the spirits would like... you to..."

"An' oo you be, t'be so large? Y'tell a spirits wa dem wan'?"

"Oh no, sir!" I rushed to catch up with the priest as he stepped outside of the temple. "But perhaps... we could ask... the spirits... if they would like you to go..."

Al'tabin sighed loudly, clearly getting frustrated that I was so insistent. "Y'talkin' to a spirits now, eh?"

"Well, sometimes," I said, "doesn't everyone?"

I thought I saw him smile. He slowed his pace a little and allowed me to walk beside him. "De spirits... dey ansa when y'talk a dem?"

"No, sir," I admitted. "But sometimes, I feel like I know what I should do afterwards, even though I didn't hear their voices."

Al'tabin stopped walking. We were in a sandy area, on the edge of the village. The sand had to be deep as the trees did not grow here.

"Y'Tarren a spirichal people. Y'do what dem tell y'do?" He lifted one bushy, grey eyebrow. "Ya dweet when y'dun like what dem say?"

That sounded like an ominous question, but I couldn't see any way to back down. I had, after all, asked him to do the same thing. "Well, sure."

"'Ow a Tarren talk a dem spirit, Sleepy Bull?"

Gah. I really didn't want him to call me that, especially if he did go to visit Thrall. "We build a sweat lodge, sir. Then we sit in it and talk to the spirits from there."

Al'tabin stared a moment in thought. "A'right, ya mek a sweat lodge."

"Here?" He nodded. "And then I'll ask the spirits whether you should come to Orgrimmar?"

"Mi sweat witcha. Ask dem spirit what dem want, togedda."


	45. The Sweat Lodge

Episode 7: The Sweat Lodge

If Al'tabin thought that asking me to build a sweat lodge would scare me off, then he was sadly mistaken. My people are nomadic by nature, and we build a new lodge every time we move. I had helped make one many times before. Besides, in this soft sand, it would not take long.

I rented a shovel from a local shopkeeper. It seems that I do this a lot. I thought that perhaps I should start packing one.

Johnny and I collected up a pile of rocks, and then a large load of firewood. We arranged the rocks in a circle and built a large bonfire over them.

The fire was burning as we lost our sunlight, so I took off my shirt, and got to digging. You should drink lots of water before using a sweat lodge, but typically you fast, so I skipped dinner.

I started my construction by digging a ramp down into the sandy soil that was long enough to put me waist-high underground at the bottom. From there, I dug outward. I dug a bench seat on either side of the ramp so that I could sit chest-deep in the lodge, and I dug out enough floor space so that I could comfortably rest my hooves without getting them too close to where I would eventually put the rocks. I used the dirt that I removed from the hole to build up the sides. That way I didn't have to dig down nearly as far.

I only had one shovel and my axe was too large for him, so I showed Johnny how to cut down bamboo with a knife and a stone. I showed him the proper size of bamboo I'd need, and put him to work.

Bamboo turned out to be perfect for the job. It was long, straight, thin, and it bent easily into a graceful arc when you planted both ends in the sand. By arranging arcs of bamboo like the spokes on a wagon wheel, and then tying the shoots together with reeds, I quickly constructed a dome over the hole.

I sent Johnny up some trees to collect banana leaves and coconut fronds, and then used these to cover the dome. Traditionally, we would use heavy hides, but I couldn't see any reason that the great, big leaves would not work.

It turned out that the leaves were less ideal than the bamboo had been. They were light enough to let the heat out and a breeze in. I had to dig out additional dirt and pile it over the leaves to get a decent "seal".

We finished construction before sun-up and had plenty of time to rest in the sand before Al'tabin returned to the temple.

I think he seemed a little surprised to see the construction completed when he arrived. "Are you ready to sweat?" Without waiting for a reply, I handed him my water skin, and began shovelling hot rocks from the edges of the bonfire into the storage area at the bottom of the ramp.

When half of the rocks were in place, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and took a seat inside the lodge. The cool sand felt nice against my backside, but soon the hot rocks were doing their job and the air inside the lodge burned hot.

Al'tabin the All-Seeing joined me on the other side of the ramp, and I arranged my blanket over the entrance so that the light could not enter and the heat could not escape. I started to sing, low and slow, and then louder as the sweat began to pour down my face.

The Tauren don't pray to the same gods as do the other races, but I sang in Taurahe to the spirits of nature; to the rocks, and trees, and rivers. I sang to the seasons, and the elements. I sang to the spirits of the people I had known; the people I had respected in their lives, or whose deaths I regretted. I sang to Urlug. I sang to my grandfather, Huln Thunderhoof.

When I finally finished my song, the exhaustion hit me like a slap across the nose. I laid back against the wall of the lodge, closed my eyes, and let it all pour out.

And then, for just a moment, I thought I smelled something familiar; something just beyond the wet soil, and the leaves, and the sweat.

Al'tabin spoke for the first time. "Ya mudda's da be 'ere."

Despite the heat, a very cold shudder ran down my spine.


	46. Spirits

Episode 8: Spirits

"My grandfather?" I whispered.

"Yeh, Uln."

I felt my stomach roil. I wished I could see him, smell him, hear him; but no matter how hard I concentrated, I could not.

"What does he say?" I blurted. "Does he want you to come to Orgrimmar?"

I could hear Al'tabin sigh. It must be frustrating to sense what those around you can not.

"'Im say ya kyaan ask mi fi dis."

"What? Why?" I was confused. Why would my grandfather not want me to succeed?

"'Im say y'nuh ready t'ask me, bwoy. Dat y'nuh ready fi start new t'ings." There was a long pause. I thought he might not continue at all. "'Im say... y'mus fin wha y'sta."

"Finish what I started? But what did I start? What haven't I finished? Grandfather? How did I fail you?"

"You brought it with you, my child, this symbol of your failure." I know it sounds insane, but for a moment, it no longer sounded like Al'tabin speaking. For just a moment, I swear it was Huln Thunderhoof. "Ya kyarry dis talisman. Y'keep it a yeh bedrull."

"I carry it in my bedroll? You mean the hair? Kaja's hair?"

"Nah!" Al'tabin shouted. He said a string of words in Zandali. From his tone, I presumed many of them were expletives.

"The necklace?"

"Yeh, dat."

Al'tabin said nothing more. When I could bear it no longer, I had to ask. "Is... is my grandfather... proud of me?"

I don't know why it was so important, so suddenly very important that I received that validation. But I did.

"Ehh..." The pause was long and painful. I wished he would continue.

"'Im will."

# # #

Al'tabin the All-Seeing said no more. I sat there until I had suffered enough. Eventually I had to crawl up the ramp, pull on my clothes, and drink heavily of the water.

I passed the water skin to the old man and let him drink too.

He picked up the necklace from where I had set it, next to Kaja's hair, atop a banana leaf. "Dis?"

I nodded, wearily. "That's the necklace. He wants me to return it?"

"Ya took dis. Y'mus gib it back, sight?"

"Well, yeah, that's why I took it, so that I could give it back."

"Nah. Speak a lie."

"Okay, okay. I took it from Johnny because I didn't want it to be a trophy. I didn't think that killing that girl was something to be proud of. It was only after I took it that I felt the need to return it to her parents."

"Y'fel da spirits!" The old man nodded and stood on shaky legs. "Y'mus gib it back."

"But, I can't!"

"Ya gaan vex dem spirits?"

"No!" I shouted. "I don't refuse. I want to return it. It's just that despite how much I want to, the task itself is impossible. I don't know who her parents are, or how to find them. And even if I knew their names, I couldn't ask anyone. They wouldn't speak my language, and they'd try to kill me on sight."

"If mi 'elp ya dis, y'gwan gib it back, den? Y'gwan ease da spirits?" He studied me with one eye, like a raven. "Caa be done, but 'ard, radda hard. Verra denj'rus."

I thought for a long time. I could tell he really meant it. "Yes, if I knew how to do this, then I would. Even though it is dangerous."


	47. Molthor

Episode 9: Molthor

Al'tabin brought me to a local witchdoctor named Molthor. He seemed young, but he had a shock of bright-white hair that stood up tall from his head. He wore an interesting robe that was adorned with strange symbols, and he carried a long staff with brightly-colored feathers tied to the top.

The most stunning thing about Molthor was the bright blue mask he had painted on his darker, blue skin. It gave his face a sinister cast, and you could not help but want to look away when his gaze was upon you.

They talked loudly and animatedly in Zandali for a long time. I don't know what was said, but it was clear that Molthor was not eager to help. It was also clear that despite his protestations, Molthor had great respect for the old man - and would jump into a volcano if Al'tabin told him to.

Al'tabin turned to leave the witchdoctor's thatched hut. "Mek a dem spirit easy, sight?"

I nodded. "About Orgrimmar..."

The old man sighed and shook his head. "Y'kyaan ask me dat."

I did not want to give up. "What about Johnny? Can Johnny ask you to go?"

Al'tabin gave the Forsaken a glance and then looked back to me with an expression of disbelief. He slapped me on the back, in a friendly sort of way. "'Im? 'Im nuh fit fi tek 'im fetters, Sleepy Bull. 'Im nuh fit a cut dem. Might be neva."

I wondered if he just didn't want to share a sweat lodge with the man. If that were the case, then I could hardly blame him.

Al'tabin the All-Seeing left, and we were alone with Molthor.

"Fetters? What are fetters?" I asked him.

"Dis." He gestured with the necklace. "Dis ya pāṇātipāto. Ties ya t'dis world. It a symbol 'ow ya wrong dis person in every inca'nation." He squatted down low. The Zandali seldom really sit.

"We're at war," I tried to explain to the Troll. "In war, people have to kill other people." A rationalization? Perhaps. I sat in front of him so that he would not have to strain his neck, looking up.

"Yeh mon, in war, y'ave ta dead some people. Dis diff'ren'. Ya dead har in dis life, an' in ya las' life, ya dead har las' life." He gestured in a circle to indicate that this was a cycle I was stuck in. "Nah kyaan bring har back now, sight, so ya gwan 'ave ta fix what harm ya done. If ya dun dweet, ya keep mek dis mistake... in all ya lifes.

"Bad juju, dis." He shook the necklace.

"But how can I return it? It's impossible."

"Ya got to! Y'done do dis, might be ya next life ya pāṇātipāto be somet'in worse. Ya neva be 'appy in dis life. Ya trapped 'ere. Ya gaan neva get away, long as ya leave dis bruk."

I rubbed my face with my hands. This was horrible. I didn't want to be here. I wished I was back in Orgrimmar. "So where do I bring this thing?"

Molthor set the necklace on the hut's dirt floor and pulled out a small handful of bones he kept in a tarnished copper bowl. He hummed to himself and shook them in his hands. With closed eyes, he let the bones tumble out around the necklace.

Molthor studied the positions of the bones and rubbed his chin. "Ya got nuff fortune. Heap a fortune, Sleepy Bull."

Gah. Again with the awful nickname. "I'm lucky?" I sure didn't feel fortunate.

"Yeh, heap a fortune. Dis place..." He smiled and nodded. "Dis place ya gaan tek a juju; is 'ere. Feelin' it. 'Ere in dis cont'nint."


	48. Mojo

Episode 10: Mojo

Molthor set about constructing a mojo - some sort of magical item that would help me find where to take the juju (necklace). I hadn't eaten since I arrived on the island, so I left him to his work and explored the village with Johnny. There, I ate almost everything that was for sale.

Although pleasant enough, the locals gave me a lot of curious stares. I guessed that they didn't get visitors often, and Tauren were probably rarer still. So when I had my fill, I returned to the shore to wash away a little dried sweat. I hoped that it hadn't been my aroma that had been attracting the attention.

I don't know if all the races on Azeroth get as stinky as the Tauren do when we sweat. I hoped for their sake that they don't.

It felt really nice to get in the water again. I didn't swim much, but I laid in the sand and let the surf splash over me. I scrubbed at my fur where it grew the thickest, I sunned myself on the beach, and I thought of Kaja.

I wished there was some way to send word to her. I didn't have much news, but any tales from abroad of friends and family is always reassuring. Surely, it would be better than hearing nothing. Perhaps, when I got back to Grom'gol, I could find a traveller headed to Orgrimmar who would carry a message for me.

Some of the younger Troll women came down to the beach while I was there. They were dressed lightly, with only small bits of colorful material to cover up this body part or that. They were so very long and lean, like graceful, exotic creatures. I had thought that they would go swimming, but instead of getting undressed, they clustered in a group, giggled, and talked among themselves.

I walked over to them and tried to strike up a conversation, but that only poured oil on the fire. They giggled uncontrollably and several even covered their faces with their hands.

Women... Trolls... Troll women. Sheesh. They were all enigmas to me.

When I tired of the staring and giggling - it didn't take long - I put my clothes back on and returned to Molthor's hut, leaving them to swim in private.

The witchdoctor had constructed a small bundle of twigs and herbs, wrapped tightly with colorful string. Around the bundle, he had carefully wrapped the necklace. The mojo itself seemed simple enough, but the rituals to imbue the mojo with power... well, that was something entirely different.

Molthor chanted and prayed and danced and sang and brewed foul-smelling ingredients together throughout the day and the night. It wasn't until he woke me in the morning that he declared, "Done, dis."

I woke slowly that morning. I had to shake my head and scratch for quite some time until I thought I was awake enough to learn how to use the mojo. And to his credit, the witchdoctor was a very patient teacher.

"Close y'eyes. 'Old it out. Furda. Turn 'round slow. Slowa. Putcha spirit out, inna mojo. Feel it. Feel de spirit."

I didn't really know how to "put my spirit out," but I tried as hard as I could. I held my breath. I tried to push it into the mojo. When I thought I felt a tug, I stopped turning. I pushed on the mojo and tried to readjust just a little to get the direction correct.

When I was as confident as I thought I'd ever be, I opened my eyes. "This way," I confidently declared.

Molthor shook his white hair sadly. "Dat garl's folk; dey nah fish." He sighed. "Dere just ocean dat weh."

I worked with him for the rest of the day, but it was hopeless. Even with the powerful mojo, I was spiritually retarded.

When he could take it no longer, he threw his hands in the air. "Nah. Nah, mon!" He grabbed my gear and thrust it into my arms. "Ya kyaan dweet."

I know this sounds terrible, but I was secretly relieved. I am not a quitter. I'm not! But the task was daunting and try as we might, there's no relief quite like that of being given a good excuse to give up.

"Ya come inna da lights. Sun-up."

I sighed. "You want to try again tomorrow?"

"Nah! Ya kyaan dweet. Ya neva gaan be able ta dweet." I could hear the frustration in his voice. "Tomorrah, mi bring it. Mi lead an' show ya. Mi gaan mek ya put a juju back, e'en me got ta drag Sleepy Bull alla weh ta Starmwin'!"

He was screaming at me, really screaming. He sprayed my face a little with spittle. I felt terrible. I felt like 800 pounds of burden.

I didn't know what to say. I was as conflicted over going as I was amazed that he would risk his own life just to help me do this thing... this thing that I wasn't even sure I really wanted to do.

He shoved me towards the door. He shoved me again, and I was outside. There was something in his scary, masked face. Something like hatred, or perhaps just exasperation. It felt, somehow wrong to thank him; so instead I just asked, "Why?"

"Caa you, Sleepy Bull," I could hear him grinding his teeth, "ya mi fetter." 


	49. Part V: Birds of a Fetter

Episode 1: Birds of a Fetter

In the early morning, Molthor was dressed in fine, leather armor. It was dark, skirt-like, and very well cared-for. He carried his staff, a small bedroll on his pack, and a one-handed axe on his belt. His face was still painted and his expression was still grim, but he did not look, perhaps, quite as angry as he had.

He explained that he had a small rowboat which would take us to shore. From there, he wished to trek up the center of Stranglethorn Vale, to Duskwood, and the nations of man. I thought this was insane.

The journey would be difficult enough, but we would need to minimize how long we were in human territory, if we hoped to succeed. All it would take is being spotted by a single patrol or villager. If they suspected an invasion, the Alliance could mobilize an incredible number of men to scour the countryside looking for us.

Even though it took us in the wrong direction, I knew that we would need to travel South, to the port city of Grom'gol, or possibly even Booty Bay. We would need supplies, and we would need to book passage on a real ship. The longer we travelled by ocean, the less time we would spend on enemy land.

Despite Molthor's passion and his desire to do rather than wait, he understood the danger we faced, and I was able to dissuade him from a "frontal assault".

The next couple of weeks were painful for us both. However, in Grom'gol I was able to obtain not only a compass, some rope, and a small shovel, but I was able to purchase - at great expense - some fairly detailed maps of Stranglethorn Vale, Duskwood, Westfall, and even Elwynn Forest. I had heard that there are some human settlements in the Redridge Mountains as well, but if our travels took us that far, then we would just have to hope that the spirits would help us, because it was clear that no one in Grom'gol could.

According to the maps, there were no human settlements in Stranglethorn Vale, apart from a few, small, military outposts. North of Stranglethorn lay Duskwood. Duskwood used to be populated entirely by humans, but it fell hard in the third war, and with the exception of the shrinking town of Darkshire, the Scourge controlled the majority of the country.

That left Westfall and the Elwynn Forest, to the West and North of Duskwood. The majority of humanity lived in these two countries, and so one of them would be our most likely destination.

I reasoned that we should sail North, along the western coast of the Eastern Kingdoms. If Molthor could use the mojo from aboard a ship, then he could sense the direction multiple times during the journey, and we could mark lines on the map to record his "readings".

I didn't know much about spirits and magic, but I figured that if we drew enough lines on the map, we could look for them to intersect, and then plan a route. My people use this same trick to locate the smoke from forest fires, and to plot our migrations around them.

We spent a few days in Grom'gol. Although I didn't meet any travelers headed to Durotar, for a small fee, Innkeeper Thulbek wrote a note for me that he would send on the next zeppelin to Orgrimmar. I had him tell Kaja that I was well, enjoying the jungle, and that my journey would take me next to Booty Bay, so I could secure further passage North. I was intentionally vague as to where we would be headed. It would be a dangerous voyage and I didn't want her to worry any more than she already did.

We chartered another fishing boat; this time to the very southernmost tip of Stranglethorn Vale. Booty Bay was located there, in a large cove carved out by a waterfall.

Booty Bay. Wow. Booty Bay.

Seeing Booty Bay for the first time was just as much of a shock as seeing Orgrimmar had been. Booty Bay was more like an organism than a city. It not only crawled with people, but the semi-lawless, pirate town crawled with life.

In every direction that you could look, there was some sort of thing happening. And by things, I don't just mean commerce. Oh sure, there were people buying and selling, but there were also revellers, entertainers, and even bar brawls.

And unlike Orgrimmar, it wasn't just Orcs, either! All sorts of races lived here; races from both the Horde and the Alliance. Despite my skepticism towards all things Goblin, you couldn't help but be a little bit impressed. How did they manage to keep such diametrically-opposed people from killing each other? It was a mystery.

The city itself was equal parts town, dock, and ship. The Goblins had built it by scavenging the shipwrecks from the bottom of the bay. They had reused decks, masts, rigging, sails, and even ship hulls as building material. Some of the town was anchored to the cliffs, some suspended over the water, and some of the town even floated out into the bay itself. No matter where you stepped, it seemed like you had never really gotten off the boat.

Booty Bay was a monument to the Goblin way of thinking. Every dock, every walkway, and every shop was a testament to the "beat the environment into submission with whatever you have at hand" philosophy of construction.

And at the edge of the bay, the gleaming crown jewel: a statue, some hundred feet tall, carved into the very rock of Janeiro's Point. Baron Revilgaz, immortalized in limestone, gloats over the city he founded.

And if a two-foot tall Goblin isn't dreadful enough, then trust me when I say that Azeroth doesn't need one a hundred feet tall.

I don't talk about it to Johnny or Molthor, but I still see Goblins in my sleep sometimes; leering over me while I'm helpless.

I can't quite explain how that statue makes my guts twist.


	50. Anchor's Aweigh

Episode 2: Anchor's Aweigh

With a little inquiry, I found out that the Riptide was about to set sail. No one knew its true destination, but rumor had it that it was headed for Menethil Harbor. If true, then that would work out well for us. Menethil was in The Wetlands, a country also on the western coast of the Eastern Kingdoms, but yet far north of Westfall and the Elwynn Forest.

The Riptide was captained by a Goblin named Keelhaul, and managed by his first mate, a big, brown, bull Tauren called Garr Salthoof. He was pretty easy to spot. I found him holding a ledger beside the Riptide's gangplank.

"Garr-ee Salthoof," I addressed him in Taurahe, "I heard that you might be headed North."

He appraised me with a keen eye. "Why, you lookin' to join my crew?"

"No sir, I seek passage to Westfall."

"Westfall?" he laughed in an unpleasant way, "What are you, stupid? There's not a port in Westfall that you could leave alive."

"I don't want to go to one of Westfall's ports," I explained, "I'd rather row to shore in the dark."

Garr nodded his understanding. "The Riptide's a working ship, not a cruise line. It's not one of the Horde's assault ships, either. Beat it," he barked.

I would not be brushed off by Al'tabin, and I certainly wasn't going to be dismissed by one of my own kind. "My friends and I are no strangers to hard work. We need only passage to Westfall, but up until then, we would serve as faithfully as any other member of your crew."

Besides, the maps had set us back much further than I had anticipated. Searn Firewarder hadn't expected that this mission would lead me on multiple ship voyages, or that I would be carrying a third party member. As it was, the money he had advanced me was nearly gone, and my purse was growing light. If we could pay our way in sweat, then all the better, I figured.

Garr thoughtfully considered the possibility. He looked through the ledger, and tapped his primary finger a few times on each page. "We might be short..." he mumbled, "How many?"

"Three."

Garr nodded his head. "Tell ya what... Help load the cargo, and then maybe I'll let you join the crew."

I didn't care for his tone. It was the sort of offer I'd expect from a Goblin. "Let us join the crew, and then all three of us will load your cargo."

He smiled and nodded knowingly. "Okay, get your mates."

# # #

We worked through the day and set sail in the morning. The Riptide was not only a fast ship, it was well-armed too. With a row of cannons on each side, I figured that nothing short of an armada would dare to intercept us.

The crew, however, was a mixed bag; and I don't just mean that all races were represented aboard the Riptide. No, some of the crew members struck me as diligent and experienced sailors, while other were just... thugs. I could see why Garr was short-handed, if he had to resort to this lot just to fill positions, then he must have been dredging the barrel.

I thought that I could get along well enough with most of the crew, but I could feel myself taking an instant dislike to the boatswain. Even more, it was clear that he had taken an instant dislike to me.

The boatswain was a Draenei man by the name of Azgala. Draenei are a mysterious race said to have come from another world. Politically, they had sided with the Alliance, which automatically made him an enemy to the three of us.

Ironically, the boatswain and I had a lot in common, physically. He was only a little smaller than I was, but instead of a respectable fur coat, he had blue skin, like a Troll. His tail was a little thicker too, and instead of horns, his head extended into odd, bony plates. His hands were large, like mine, but instead of two strong fingers and a thumb, he had four skinny fingers and a thumb on each hand.

I could have easily overlooked all of these differences, but the strangest of all was his beard. I guess you would call it a beard. From a distance it looked like one, at least, but when you looked closer, you could see that instead of braids of hair, he had a few tentacles growing out of his face, as if he had tucked a squid in the bib of his shirt.

I had seen this before, once at a nokee zhi. Their tribe's largest bull took an instant dislike to our largest bull. I guess he had grown accustomed to being the biggest around, and when suddenly confronted by a bull that was even bigger than himself, he got all bent out of shape. Oh, they threw a couple punches, and wrestled in the dirt for a bit, but it didn't take long for them to work it out. Once they did that, they got along just fine, and we all had a fun celebration.

I hoped that that was what was going on with me and Azgala. He had always had an important job and had been nearly the largest on board (first mate Garr made us both look small), but now he had to deal with a new crew member who was bigger.

I hoped that we could work this out quickly. I didn't want to have to deal with him the entire journey.


	51. Azgala

Episode 3: Azgala

My problems with Azgala started only minutes after I climbed on board. The big Draenei spit on me, for no apparent reason. I could have just ignored it, but this was no way to start a journey. If I ignored it this time, then I would have to deal with this sort of crap every time I was near him. Or worse! Who knew how this would escalate if not confronted?

So instead, I dropped what I was doing and put my face up to his. I snorted and stared him right in the eyes, without blinking.

He smirked at me and said something in Common. I had no idea what it was, but it was clear to me that he was a real scumbag. I didn't look away.

Someone to my side translated for me. "He says, 'Looks like we get steak tonight.'"

"Why not squid?" I retorted. No one translated for him, but I could see it in his eyes that understood.

"Move it! Move it! Get back to work!" Garr Salthoof was suddenly between us, pushing him one way and myself the other. I went about my duties without looking back.

I kept my mouth shut. I didn't complain.

That evening, Johnny and I were on our knees, scrubbing the deck with brushes. It's a pretty dreadful job, but a far cry from the worst that they could assign us. You see, ships are sealed with tar to keep them watertight, and that tar must be reapplied regularly. I don't know how horrible a job tarring is, but I do know what it's like to try and get even a small patch of pitch out of fur. I would take any job they gave me and be thankful, as long as I didn't have to work with hot tar.

"I don't know what his deal is. I really don't," I muttered to the rogue, "But if he thinks I'm going to just take it, then he's mistaken."

Johnny glanced up just as I felt the flash of pain. I can't quite describe the sensation when a tail goes under hoof, but it was not something you just ignore. I leapt instantly to my hooves, and planted my fist as deeply into Azgala's gut as I possibly could.

I was not backing down. No way.

I pressed the advantage while I had it. I slammed one fist into his face and then the other. He got some punches in too, but I didn't care. What really mattered was that he understood how I would react when pushed.

The boatswain drove a hoof up into my stomach, knocking me back. It hurt like hell, but I was willing to ignore it. I scrambled to my feet and was preparing to rush at him, but the fight had stopped just as quickly as it had started.

I stood there, panting, with fists balled at my shoulders. My nose was throbbing and I was sure it dripped crimson. He stood a few feet away, frozen at a queer angle. His face was splashed with blue and he panted like I did. One hand was up in front of him, ready to block, and the other hand was down low, holding a long knife.

I didn't take my eyes off the blade, but I did a mental inventory. Had he cut me? I didn't think so. He must have pulled the knife after we last separated. Instead of starting again, we just stood there.

Then I noticed a second glinting of steel. This was one of Johnny's daggers. His bony fingers were wrapped around the grip, but the tip of the blade was hidden beneath Azgala's chin-line.

Johnny was as expressionless as always. He didn't say a word. The Draenei slowly sheathed his blade and backed away. Johnny's dagger vanished as smoothly as it had appeared.

"What have I gotten us into?"


	52. AWOL

Episode 4: A.W.O.L.

Despite the weariness I felt, I slept very poorly that night. Every sound, every movement woke me. Every shadow that could be a Draenei with a knife made my heart beat faster.

This was going to be a very long trip.

I finally did get some sleep in the early morning hours, but at sunrise I was awakened by Garr's shouting... the entire ship was. I hopped out of bed and climbed up on deck to find out what was wrong.

"Why haven't these lines been checked? Why is this rope uncoiled? Why are the sails still tied?" He bellowed.

Wow. He looked really pissed. I ticked through the tasks that I had been given yesterday to make sure I hadn't neglected anything. When the boss is this angry, the last thing you needed was for one of your unfinished chores to catch his attention.

"Bring me the boatswain! I want an explanation! Where is Azgala?" Garr had quite the set of lungs.

Crewman hustled this way and that, to put some distance between themselves and the first mate, and to search the ship. I had no desire to find Azgala, so I didn't look. Instead, I checked over my own responsibilities and tried to appear busy.

No one said anything. The minutes passed and it soon became clear that Azgala's chores had gone undone because the big Draenei was no longer aboard.

The longboat was still in place, and we had not docked, so there was only one possible explanation. The boatswain must have gone overboard sometime during the night. An eerie silence stretched over the ship. Crewman looked at one another for an explanation.

Johnny's damned face was as unreadable as ever.

"You!" Garr suddenly shouted. He pointed at a Night Elf man in a loose shirt. "You're the new boatswain. Get to work!"

And just like that, the crew went back about their business, as if the man had never climbed on board. I don't know what I would have expected, really. Circling back around to search? Mourning? No. Questions? An investigation? Perhaps.

But that was it. The man was presumed to be dead and that was good enough for everyone. It was disturbing and creepy.

What sort of men were these?

# # #

With Azgala gone, the Riptide became a far more pleasant place to be. I threw myself gleefully into my chores without worries of ambush. If the former boatswain had left any friends behind who wished to continue in his tracks, then they were far more timid than he had been.

I made an effort to meet my fellow shipmates. I had thought that I would get along best with people from the other Horde races, but that turned out not to be the case. Several of the Orcs, Trolls, and Forsaken were just as brutish and unpleasant as the first mate, Garr.

I did, however, find that I was becoming fast friends with the ship's cook, a human woman named Kaysha. She spoke both Common and Orcish, and was glad to teach me a few words of her native tongue. I drank it all in. I seemed to have a natural bent for languages, after all. I had picked up Orcish in almost no time at all.

Kaysha was fun and interesting. She was about Johnny's height, but round and jolly. She loved to eat, and drink, and to tell crude jokes. She kept her blond hair in a long braid, and despite the huge difference in our sizes, she showed no fear of me at all.

In fact, she laughed and cursed whenever I was in the way. She shoved me roughly aside without worry of angering me. She seemed to find that hilarious.

That same affection she showed me, however, could not be said of Johnny. You could tell with a glance that the Forsaken scared her.

She had grown up in a town called Darrowshire, in a country that was now known as the Eastern Plaguelands. That had been before the third war, obviously. She had witnessed the outbreak of The Plague and fled the Scourge. I couldn't really fault her for being nervous around the undead.


	53. Bloodsail Brick

Episode 5: Bloodsail Brick

The Riptide moved like a fish, and the coastal ruins and fishing villages of Stranglethorn Vale sped by.

Molthor used his mojo every evening after our chores were finished, and I plotted his best guess at a heading on the maps.

Sadly, the magic was not as precise as was looking at a smoke plume, but I was not losing hope. Even if we couldn't pinpoint our destination from a distance, at least we could be confident that we were headed in the right direction. The angle of the readings did seem to grow a little shallower with each passing day.

After six days of travel, we saw the last of Stranglethorn go by. The dense, humid jungles gave way to more familiar, deciduous woods of Westfall. It wouldn't be long now until we could select a point of departure.

That evening, shortly after I had climbed into my hammock, there was a great commotion aboard. Bells rang... crew members ran this way or that on the decks above my head... orders were shouted. I was exhausted from a long day of work. I wanted to know what was going on, but I really didn't want to get out of my berth.

Then the first of the cannons fired.

You can't imagine just how loud those things are, especially when you are below decks when they go off. My ears were ringing.

I was up and running. I grabbed my axe and considered throwing on my armor as well. Chain mail is a wonderful thing. It can save your life. But wearing it aboard a ship is not without risk. A heavy axe is easily dropped, but if you went overboard with armor on, you'd likely hit the bottom long before you got it off.

I knew nothing about firing cannons, or naval warfare, but I was prepared to repel boarders. I was prepared to kill if I had to.

More cannons fired... more, and more. Despite the open seas, the air filled with gun smoke. It was dark out, but I could see flames through the smoke. I worked my way slowly towards them to see if I would need to bail water to try and douse them, but I hit the bulwark with my knees. That was a good sign. It meant that the fire was on the other ship.

The two ships were very close now and I could hear orders being shouted on both sides - both in Common, unfortunately. With a bone-jarring thump, our ships made contact. Grappling hooks were in the air.

The Riptide was a few feet taller than the other vessel, so it would be an easy jump over and a simple climb back along any of the ladders hanging from our bulwark. I could see various enemy crew members scrambling around the other ship's deck, but they were working to control the fires, and not trying to come aboard.

I kept an eye on them all, my axe at the ready, and prepared to attack, should any of them advance.

They were Night Elves, all of them; distant cousins of the Blood Elves that had joined with the Horde. The Tauren had always regretted that the Night Elves hated the Orcs so. It caused them to side with the Alliance, and cast their lots behind humans; men who feared all who looked too different from themselves.

It was a shame, really. The Tauren and Night Elves had so much in common both culturally and spiritually. We could have been the best of allies, instead of foes.

My shipmates did not wait for the battle to come to them. Instead, wave after wave leapt down on the Night Elves and brought the fighting to them. The elves unsheathed their swords and fought back. I did not understand the nature of this battle, but I had given my oath to Garr, and sworn my loyalty.

I leapt down and gave it my all. There were a few Night Elves among our crew, but they were dressed very differently from these. The crew of this ship were outfitted in light and flowing garments. Our crew was dressed in leather. Between the fires and the glowing whisps used by the Elves to light their vessel, I could differentiate the combatants easily enough.

I struck one elf low, and severed his leg cleanly at the thigh. Another came at me from the side, so I spun my axe in between us and bellowed loud. He backed quickly off, to find a more suitable opponent.

The battle raged all around me. Blades flashed and blood sprayed. On three separate occasions, I came dangerously close to receiving a mortal wound. But the spirits were kind and the battle decisive. In what seemed like only moments, we tossed our weapons back aboard and scrambled back to the Riptide.

Then, we had cut ourselves loose of the grapples and were sailing away at top speed. The crew cheered wildly. They drank and danced. They cheered some more. Soon, they broke out into song.

We all celebrated as the fires grew dim in the distance. We had won.

# # #

In the morning, we assembled as a group on the main deck of the Riptide. Four of us had been lost, and one had suffered a grave wound to the side of the face, but the remaining nineteen had escaped unscathed.

No one mourned the dead. No one consoled the injured.

Captain Keelhaul congratulated us for our victory, and then began to divide the booty. Two shares for Keelhaul, two-and-a-half shares for Salthoof, one-and-a- quarter share for the new boatswain, and so on down the line, depending on time with the crew and whether we had boarded the other vessel.

My stomach tumbled and tumbled with confirmation of what I had done. My share of the loot did not soothe it.

I had slept precious little that night. My mind replayed every moment, from my first meeting with Garr, until the end of the battle. I analyzed and over- analyzed all the clues.

Where had I gone so wrong?

When had we become pirates?


	54. Friend or Fetter

Episode 6: Friend or Fetter

The next three days could not go fast enough. I threw myself into my work. I picked up all the Common I could learn. I charted Molthor's readings. And when the time was close, I planned our departure with Garr.

I did not talk about my feelings. I did not discuss the raid. No one aboard needed any idea that I didn't want to be a pirate, or that I didn't think I was one.

Fortunately, Garr didn't give me any grief about leaving. He told me that there was no way he would even try to pick us back up when we were done, but that was hardly any surprise. I hadn't expected a lift home, and frankly, I'd rather walk through enemy territory than spend more time in the company of criminals.

He even told me that we were welcome to become permanent members of his crew. Not an offer I was interested in, but at least it showed that he couldn't sense my regret.

I thanked Garr, said goodbye to Kaysha, and that night we rowed ashore with one of the nicer Orcs aboard. Karg seemed like a decent enough guy, for a pirate. We rowed to a lonely beach that was far from any village on our map. I unloaded my gear, and shook hands with Karg, thanking him for the help.

I watched him row back into the darkness.

I was so angry with Molthor that I could chew iron ore and spit nails. I ground my teeth as I pulled on my armor, unable to contain it for another moment. "I can't believe you didn't tell me that the Riptide was a pirate ship," I grumbled.

Despite the darkness, I could see the shock on Molthor's face. "Nah wan' be a pirate? Wah mek y'pick a pirate boat?"

"How the hell could," I started to yell, and then remembered where we were. I lowered my voice. "How the hell could I know it was a pirate ship? That was only the third boat I'd ever been on. And the other two were just little fishing boats."

The witchdoctor shrugged. "Ya mi fetter. Mi trapped a dis life, so as you. Mi 'ave ta 'elp. Mi nah gaan letcha down. Gaan 'elp ya, even if mi got t'be a pirate. Al'tabin say it muss be so."

"This is madness. Madness." I scanned the cliffs and looked for an easy way up. They didn't look too tall.

"'Ear dis, Sleepy Bull. Al'tabin see evra-t'in," Molthor explained, "Mi ma an' fadda, dey bring mi a Al'tabin twenny year ago, when mi were a li'l pickney. 'Im grow me. 'Im say mi letcha down. Ever time, some'ow.

"Den mi spend da las' twenny year to mek ready. Helped ever'one who ask mi fi dis. Mi waited fa one a dem a be you. Mi nah gaan letcha down. Gaan be deh fi you dis time."

"That makes no sense," I grumbled, "You don't have any idea what I need. Help me? That could mean anything. Perhaps you were supposed to help me by keeping me from becoming a criminal! Did you ever think of that? Or perhaps the help is in keeping me alive, or keeping me from doing something immoral. By just following blindly along... you're... you're not helping."

Molthor looked stunned. "Failed yeh... again," he gasped.

"You haven't failed me," I snapped. "I'm just disappointed. I'd appreciate it if you'd try to be more like Johnny. I mean, we look after each other because we're friends. We care what happens to each other.

"Stop treating me like your fetter, and try treating me like a person."

Molthor was quiet a while as we climbed the small cliff that edged the beach. "Mi try harda." I slapped him on the back and everything seemed okay.

Beyond the cliffs were a small wooded area, and beyond the woods were farms.

As it turns out, farmland is actually pretty easy to sneak across. Farmers work all day, and none of them have any reason to be up at night. Patrols keep an eye on the cities and roads, but who would search farmland for invaders? We moved quietly, but still made decent time.


	55. Pining for Home

Episode 7: Pining for Home

The ground was soft, so we followed the fence lines across the countryside. I walked on the pasture side of the fences, Johnny on the outside, and Molthor, well, he walked across the tops of the fences, as easily as the two of us covered open ground.

It might have been a needless precaution, but I figured that my hoof prints, if spotted inside a field, would raise no more alarm than Johnny's boot prints, if spotted outside. Unless someone was really looking for us, there would be no reason for anyone to presume there were any Horde in Westfall.

Before each dawn, we bedded down in woods or haylofts. During the summer, farmers have no reason to spend much time in their barns. They let their livestock out in the morning, and corral them back up at night, but with the summer's green pastures, they had no need of hay.

At night, we would take whatever food we could quietly steal. We helped ourselves to fruit, eggs, vegetables, some meat from a smokehouse, and once we even found jars of preserves in a storm cellar. I had not realized how much happiness a tiny jar of strawberry jam could bring.

We didn't dare make a fire, so we had to eat what we found in the state that we found it. The fruit, carrots, and smoked meats were great, but the raw eggs and potatoes were disappointing. Molthor and I saved our potatoes in our bags. Eating them was far better than going hungry, but we continually hoped to find more interesting meals. Many nights we did not.

Potato nights were quiet nights.

We felt safe enough to whisper conversations as we walked. That helped keep our spirits up. Unfortunately, the conversations usually degenerated into a discussion of what we missed most.

"Crusty bread... still warm from the oven..." I sighed happily.

"Spotty yellatail," Molthor suggested, "tenda, butt'ry, wit' a likkle squeeze a lemon."

Ooh, that was enough to make my stomach rumble. I resisted the urge to bite into another potato. "I miss my utankan."

"Yeh?" Molthor asked. "Dun miss a village much. Ya, dem folk a nice 'nuff, but dey jus' folk. Radda spen' mos' a mi time wit' miself."

Wow. That seemed so strange. Tauren are such a social people. The tribes may be secluded, but the people seldom are. It's a rare Tauren that goes anywhere by himself.

"I miss Kaja," I shared.

"Ya miss a cow, mon? Ain't dat strange fi Tarren?" Molthor asked.

"Yeah, but she's an unusual Tauren." I explained how Kaja had been raised by Orcs and didn't act like I expected her to act. It was a long conversation, but it felt good to talk about her. Johnny had been a good listener, of course, but I found that I enjoyed talking with Molthor as well. At least he understood that women were desirable, unlike Urlug.

The witchdoctor chuckled. "A Tarren in lub? Neva t'ought mi see dat."

I felt very conspicuous. I wondered if I should have shared so much. "Pretty strange, huh?"

Molthor reached down from the fence where he walked and put a hand on my head. "Sun's strange. From all dem light dat burn in a sky, none odda blaze so." He chuckled. "It dun mek it bad, seen."

That made me feel a bit better.

I asked the Troll about the women in his life, but he didn't have much to share. He said that he had never met the right one, whatever that meant. Perhaps there were other Troll men in his village that were bigger and stronger than he was.

Molthor continued to use his mojo, and we spent two weeks traveling across Westfall. Tensions grew as we neared the border. With each passing day it became more clear that we would need to cross over into the Elwynn Forest.

Even Johnny seemed a little apprehensive about what challenges might lay ahead as we neared Stormwind.


	56. Flight of the Tauren

Episode 8: Flight of the Tauren

The mighty Nazferiti separated Elwynn Forest from Duskwood, and a wide tributary to it flowed from the mountains surrounding Stormwind. One way or another, we were going to need to get across.

With so few landmarks to judge by, it was difficult to say exactly where we were. My best guess was a day's walk south of the bridge the connected Westfall to Elwynn Forest, but there was no way to be sure without approaching a populated or well-guarded area.

There were more roads here. More roads than appeared on the map. I didn't know if we were lost or if the map was incomplete. I hoped for the latter.

As we crossed the third road of the night, a gaspy voice whispered "Patrol!" We sprinted for cover without looking back. Fortunately, there was a small stand of trees, only a hundred feet ahead.

Only once we were in deep cover did I dare turn and search the darkness for signs of pursuit. "What did you see?" I whispered to Molthor.

The headhunter didn't say a word. Instead, he pointed to Johnny, to indicate that it had been the rogue who had called the alarm. It took a moment for this to sink in. Johnny had actually spoken, and on his own, no less. This was, after all, only the second thing I had ever heard him say.

It was quite the time to have a breakthrough!

I scanned the darkness, but didn't see a thing. Then I heard the jingling of metal and the sound of galloping. I smelled the horses.

There were at least two of them, a mounted patrol. That was bad. We might have been able to out-run men, but never horses.

The patrol had left the road. They rode back and forth along the edge of the woods, so they obviously had spotted us. I hoped only that they hadn't gotten a good look. Perhaps if they had been far enough back, then they would have only seen movement. We could have been loose cattle, or brigands, even. They may not have realized that we were Horde.

They searched for quite some time before heading off. I exhaled a long, quiet sigh of relief. "We should press on, before they come back with reinforcements."

Instead of leaving the woods, we pressed on through them, headed East, towards the river.

The woods were small, and soon we were at their edge.

"Dem bwoys comin' 'gain," Molthor said. "Four ridahs dis time... two dog."

Dogs? Hiding was definitely not an option. We sprinted from the trees. I could just barely make out the river ahead. The sky was starting to lighten.

I still couldn't see the riders, but I had no reason to distrust the witchdoctor's farsight. We tumbled down a long slope to the river's muddy banks.

I was not prepared for just how large the river would be. We had many streams in Mulgore that we called rivers, but they were nothing like this. You could not throw a rock from one bank to the other, it was that wide. The skies were turning pink and I could see swirling eddies in the water.

If we abandoned our armor and weapons, then we might be able to swim to the other side without drowning. It would be easier if we had the luxury of choosing a better spot to cross, but that seemed unlikely.

I could hear the dogs.

Johnny looked to me for direction. "We stand and fight," I declared. "Is there place where they won't be able to fight on horseback?"

Molthor was rummaging through his pack. "Nah, 'old up. Gib me ya hoofs."

The witchdoctor pulled out a small vial of oil and rubbed it on our feet. An arrow landed in the grass beside us. I could see the riders now, rushing towards us, but they were still too far away to get a good shot.

"Gwan, den!" he shouted, the Troll sprinted out across the water, running for the opposite bank. I had no idea what sort of magic made this possible, but I was not about to question our luck. Johnny and I ran too.

I saw an arrow or two splash into the water. "'Urry!" Molthor shouted. He was a quick one, and was getting a good lead on the rogue and myself.

I ignored the attack and ran, never looking back. It was a wonderful sensation. I could see the currents swirls around us, and feel the cool water splashing over the tops of my hooves, but somehow the water held up my weight as if I were running on grass.

I couldn't hear the dogs, or the horses, or even the jangling of my own armor. The sounds of rushing water filled my ears the fresh smell tickled my nose. I just focused on the far bank and ran.

Closer. Closer. The edge was so close now. The splashing of my hooves on water. Splashing. Splashing.

And then suddenly, the magic was gone, as if the spell had never been cast.

With one mighty "Sploosh!" I was underwater. The weight of my armor dropped me hard, like a stone.


	57. Elwynn Forest

Episode 9: Elwynn Forest

My knees struck the river bottom and I tried to gasp in surprise, only to suck in a lung-full of water. I sputtered. I choked. I stood upright.

I had made it so close. At least I was in the shallows.

"Mi madda caa run fasta dan dat, Sleepy Bull," Molthor shouted from where he squatted on the bank. Johnny stood beside him, without even the decency of acting winded.

"You did good," I told the Troll as I pulled my weight up beside him. I flopped down hard on the bank. "You did good."

"We nah clear yet, mon."

He was right. "They'll probably double back to the bridge and pick up some additional search parties. Probably more dogs too." I rolled over on my back. "We won't be able to hide. Are we close?"

Molthor took out the mojo, closed his eyes, and turned slowly around. "Yeh, t'ink so. Stronga now dat we 'pon a rivah."

"Okay, let's head out."

It felt strange to be out in the light, but it also felt long overdue. Tauren are made for long-distances. I'd rather walk sixteen hours a day, than sneak around during the darkest six.

Elwynn Forest was still farmland, but far more wooded than Westfall had been. The trees aggressively reclaimed any land left fallow.

"Molthor, Johnny... keep your eyes open for anything that could help hide our tracks, or cover our scent. Streams, rocky ground, pig pens..." They nodded as one.

Molthor lead us through woods and streams. I wanted to lead, but I was finding it increasingly difficult; not only because I couldn't use the mojo, but I also felt hot, and I was finding it hard to concentrate. I was relieved to hand over the burden to the witchdoctor.

There was a distinct urgency to our pace. No one spoke. We didn't stop to eat or plan, and only paused long enough for the Troll to use his mojo.

We walked through the day and the following night. Even I was starting to feel worn out. Molthor looked like he might have pushed himself too hard.

The sky was starting to lighten when the witchdoctor peeked out of the trees and across a large plowed field. "T'ink we 'ere. Dat likkle 'ouse dere."

His words were enough to lift some of the weight off of my shoulders. "That's great! Johnny and I will go in and return the necklace. Molthor, you keep watch outside. It shouldn't take long, and then we can head South."

There had been no time during the last day to consult my maps, but I suspected that we were close to Elwynn Forest's southern border. If we could just cross over to Duskwood, then we'd probably be clear of pursuit. It would be foolhardy for the Alliance to chase three lone Horde onto Scourge land.

Molthor put up a hand. "'Old up," he said.

I heard it too. A dog. It wasn't just a farm dog tied up behind a house, either. This was behind us, on our trail. You could almost hear him baying, "I found them! This way! This way!"

"How far?"

"'Alf a mile," the Troll said. "T'ree swordman, wearin' hides. One bowman. One dog."

We set our packs in a pile. I walked a little ways out into the field, and turned back to face the trees. The sun would be behind me. That would help. I wanted them to focus on me.

"I'll keep their attention, but I have no shield. Molthor, you stay in the trees. Take out the archer, or I'll be helpless. Johnny... do what you do best."

Molthor used his magic to call upon the elements. They coalesced around me in the form of four small totems, one on each compass point.

Standing inside the totem ring felt wonderful. The magic coursed through me and help rejuvenate my tired muscles. I swung my axe and let it cut the air. Whatever fate this battle held for me, I was ready.


	58. Three Against One

Episode 10: Three Against One

I stood and waited. I was glad we got a chance to prepare for the attack, and that our pursuers would have to fight winded. We needed every advantage that we could get.

The dog was the first to reach us. It was a large, wet, shaggy thing with dark fur. It bounded out of the trees and slammed its full weight into my chest with easily enough power to knock a human to the ground. I had to take a half-step backwards myself.

The beast bit viciously at my chest and arm. I felt a little bad for it. This dog wasn't truly my enemy. It was a shame to kill it. It was just a tool used by our pursuers.

But then again, I thought, the men in the woods were not really my enemies either. My true enemy was the Alliance, and these men were just its tools. I grabbed the dog's head with one hand and peeled it off of my chain mail. I cracked it like a whip and tossed the carcass to the side, outside of the ring of totems.

My real concern was the men behind the dog. I gripped the axe tightly with both hands and bellowed into the woods, "Come and get me, you néchis!" I screamed. Birds scattered from their perches, flapping away from the noise.

The three swordsmen emerged at a more measured pace. They began to circle around me, taking up flanking positions. A few arrows flew past from the man in the trees. I knew there was nothing I could do about the archer, so I kept my attention on the swords.

The man to my right was a coward, and would be the first to die. He had large arms, and held a two-handed sword out in front of him, defensively, trying to keep some distance between us.

I didn't look directly at him, but even with a side-ways glance, I could see the fear in his eyes. He wasn't ready for a real battle. The expression on his face said it all. He had hoped that some other search party would find us first. Even now, he was praying that I would lay down my arms and let them take me prisoner.

The man to my left was an experienced fighter. With a short sword in his right hand and an axe in his left, he did not tremble in fear. He was looking me over, and deciding how he should best begin. It was clear that he was not in charge. He was waiting for the third man to attack.

It was the man in front of me who had my full attention. He was calm and collected. He had tan, craggy skin, and a rotten tooth right in the front of his smile. His hair was long, blond, and oily. His armor was old and black. It looked very well-maintained. He carried a short, narrow sword in each hand.

Rotten-tooth spoke in Common. I don't know why he bothered. I'm sure he was telling me to surrender, but it was a waste of his breath. I might one day put my neck in the hangman's noose voluntarily, but it would be for a noble cause. It won't be because I'm afraid to fight.

I didn't bother replying. This wasn't what I was waiting for.

The axe-man to my left gasped in pain. That was my cue. I didn't look at him, but I presumed he had a dagger lodged in one of his kidneys.

I spun around the coward on my right and brought the axe down hard, slicing him from neck to hip. The axe-man would be locked in battle with Johnny, so I positioned myself so that my axe was between Rotten-tooth and myself.

Rotten-tooth grinned at me. He had lost one of his men, another was mortally injured, and he grinned at me? He held up one of his swords and the sunlight shining behind me glinted off the crimson on the blade.

That's when I noticed the throbbing in my left arm. He must have slid the blade underneath my hauberk somehow when I spun. I didn't dare take my eyes off of him, but I could feel the blood dripping down my arm.

This guy was fast... scary fast. I didn't dare swing the axe. It was far too slow a weapon against someone who could move like Rotten-tooth. Although not designed as a jabbing weapon, I tried to catch the swordsman with the axe blade's toe.

He was not intimidated. Instead, he fell back and tried to run a sword up my hauberk's other sleeve, failing only at the last minute.

He laughed out loud and I could feel a slight panic in my guts.

Rotten-tooth charged quickly and there was no time to bring the axe around. Instead, I kicked forward, trying to catch him in the chest with a hoof.

One of his blades snagged momentarily in my mail, but the other slid up under my cuisse, and buried itself deep in my thigh. A flash of pain burned up my leg.

He was taking me apart, bit by bit, and I had yet to even nick him.

He laughed again and sweat began to pour down my face.

There was a sickening gasp behind me. I didn't dare turn to look, but a moment later, Johnny emerged to stand at my side. Now I was the one who was grinning.

We tried to flank Rotten-tooth, but the best I could manage was to limp. He continued to maneuver around the two of us, keeping myself between him and the rogue.

Finally, a leather-clad shape emerged from the forest. I glanced up, worried whether it would be the witchdoctor or the archer who had emerged victorious...

While we were momentarily distracted, Rotten-tooth took off running at full speed.

There was no way I was in any shape to give chase.


	59. Juju

Episode 11: Juju

Molthor pressed his wrists together and gestured at the fleeing swordsman. A blast of arctic cold erupted from his hands and slammed into Rotten-tooth's back. It didn't knock him down, but it did slow him to a crawl.

I saw the rogue leap up on his back and drive both daggers down into the human's neck.

I turned away. I didn't need to witness it.

"Ya look a been tru bloodfiah," the witchdoctor told me. Molthor, on the other hand, didn't have a scratch on him.

"I'll survive. Can your magic heal me?" I asked.

He nodded. "But we gaan need fi sew up ya cuts. 'Fore yeh bleed out."

Johnny returned from his gruesome task. "Are you okay?" I asked.

He flicked casually at some filth on his chest.

"Good. Johnny, check if that guy's armor fits you. Molthor, grab our packs. I'll meet you both inside."

# # #

I knocked on the door and stuck my hoof in the crack when it opened. The single-room home erupted into screams as I peeked in.

I saw a man and a woman inside. The man was greying at the temples, but seemed otherwise young and strong. The woman was stout and buxom. Two children clung to her arms, a boy and a girl. They both seemed to be around Urlug's height, or a little taller.

The woman and children cowered in the back of the home, and the man positioned himself between us.

I knew I was quite the sight. It was unlikely that they had ever seen a Tauren before, much less had one crouching underneath their ceiling. Plus, my weapon and armor were coated in blood. It could not have been a pretty sight.

I let them scream for another moment before putting a finger to my lips. I made a shushing noise.

Molthor came in behind me and set our packs on the floor. I leaned my axe up against the wall.

The home seemed tiny, especially with the two of us taking up space in it. There was a table and chairs, a bed, and a fireplace. I would never be able to sit on their chairs without breaking them, so I kneeled before the table and tried to ignore the throbbing in my leg. I gestured for them to join me. "Come," I asked in Common.

I waited at the table, and surveyed the remains of their breakfast. It looked so good. I wanted to help myself to some of the fried eggs and ham. I wanted to grab the bread, but this was so much more important.

"Come, please," I asked again.

Realizing that I was not going to give up, the father took a seat opposite me. He looked quite brave, considering. His face was sweaty.

The woman and children took up position behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders. It would have to do.

I gestured to Molthor and he handed me the mojo. I unwound the necklace from the bundle and set it on the table in front of them.

The man picked up the necklace and glanced at it, but his focus was clearly on me.

"Daughter," I explained.

That got his attention. He looked at the necklace again and I could see it click in his eyes. He burst into tears. The mother grabbed it from him. She clutched it to her breast and began to scream and wail. The children screamed too.

The boy child surprised me. He screamed something in Common. "Murderer?" I would guess. He grabbed a knife from the table and leapt onto me, stabbing the blade into the center of my chest.

I saw him coming, but I just didn't have it in me to stop him. Fortunately, the blade could not penetrate my mail.

I plucked the blade from his hand with my thumb and primary finger. I didn't know what else to do, so I put my hand around his back and held him close for a few seconds. Then I picked him up and handed him back to his father.

I waited a while for the wailing to stop, or at least grow quieter.

I didn't know enough words of Common to truly express my feelings, but even if I had, what could I truly say?

One word that I insisted Kaysha teach me, "Sorry."


	60. First Aid

Episode 12: First Aid

"Kyaan wait nah more," Molthor whispered to me.

I nodded and began to strip away my armor. The witchdoctor took the woman's sewing supplies from a basket and extracted a needle and thread.

Fortunately, Rotten-tooth's sword had caught the back of my forearm and not the front. The wound would have been far more severe, had he managed to sever the veins or tendons in my wrist.

The Troll gestured over my wound and the thread began to glow. I struggled with the tiny needle and tried to stitch the wet, furry skin closed with one hand. My fingers were simply too large, and the task was a nightmare for me.

The mother, watching keenly, finally made a frustrated sound. She grabbed the needle from me and took over the stitching, jabbering the whole time in Common.

"What har sayin'?" Molthor asked.

"No idea," I told him. "Probably something about me being incompetent, or complaining that I'm getting blood everywhere, or perhaps she's hoping that we can leave sooner once she gets this done. Who knows?"

Molthor continued to gesture, and the woman continued to stitch the glowing thread. I watched in amazement as the wound closed. The bleeding stopped and the stitches faded, leaving only a scar behind. It was fascinating, and not near as painful as I had expected.

I wasn't confident enough in my Common to ask them their names, so I nicknamed the parents Ma and Pa. It seemed to fit them.

Johnny entered the home, dressed almost entirely in the swordsman's leather. He carried the chest piece under an arm.

"Doesn't it fit?" I asked him.

Johnny gestured again to a spot on his chest, below his left nipple. I leaned a little closer to try and make out what it was. It looked like a feather... a couple of them, actually.

It dawned on me at last. "Fletching!" I turned the rogue around to find the bolt's shaft protruding a ways out from a point just beside his spinal column. "Ouch," I gasped. "I guess this might make it hard to put that armor on."

I gripped the shaft firmly and pulled it out, straight. He didn't react, and no blood or gore poured from the hole. I handed the crossbow bolt back to him. "Souvenir for you."

Molthor and the human woman tended to the gash in my leg, and soon the bleeding had stopped there too. I thanked them both.

From my purse, I took one of the gold pieces that Keelhaul had given me and handed it to her. I felt bad even having the dirty money. I couldn't think of a better use for it.

Ma's eyes opened wide. It was unlikely they had ever held more than silver or copper before. She tried to give it back, but I would not let her.

Suddenly I felt very tired. I leaned up against the healing totem that Molthor had summoned and closed my eyes.

# # #

When I awoke, a candle burned on the table.

"Wake up! Wake up!" I jabbed at the Troll. "We've slept through the entire day!"

Molthor scrambled to his feet and strapped his pack across his back. It was anyone's guess how close the other search parties might be to us now. We needed to hurry.

The human family still looked frightened, but resolved. They were eager for us to leave, of course, but they no longer seemed worried about what we might do to them.

There was a brief discussion between Ma and Pa. She gestured at him and then handed me a large loaf of bread. I expressed my sincere gratitude for it, and their kindness in general. It smelled delicious.

Even without understanding all the words, I could infer the debate over the how you should treat people who keep you captive in your own home. I imagined that Ma had said something along the lines of "You may run this home, mister, but I run the kitchen!"

It made me grin, regardless of how close to accurate it may have been.


	61. Part VI: Fording the Nazferiti

Episode 1: Fording the Nazferiti

We cautiously left the home and followed my compass, due South. We didn't waste time sneaking or trying to cover our tracks. Speed was all that really mattered now.

With a pace somewhere between a march and a jog, we crossed through woods, streams, and over roads. With every dog bark, we froze in place, worried that it could be another team, searching for us.

At mid-morning, we hit the river. It was even wider and wilder than the tributary we had crossed earlier. According to the map, there were no bridges across this river for a hundred miles in either direction.

"Dun got 'nuff oil leff. 'Nuff fi maybe one, maybe likkle more," Molthor explained. My heart sank a little. "We mek fi de beach. Sum'un gween 'ave a boat. We teks it, an' cross."

I listened for dogs, worried that we might not have the time. "No, I have a better idea," I said. "Molthor, use all the oil on me." He looked confused, so I insisted, "Do it."

The witchdoctor rubbed the remaining oil over my hooves and performed some arcane gesture over them. "Done, dis," he said.

I picked the little rogue up under one arm and grinned. It was like he weighed nothing. "Get on my back, Molthor. Hurry!"

The Troll climbed aboard and held on like I was a swaying tree. I started to run, out across the water. It was the most weight that I had ever carried, but I didn't care. The water was holding up my weight and I was grinning from ear to ear. I could hear Molthor cheering from my shoulders. "Taz'dingo!" We won. We won.

"If you ever... tell anyone..." I huffed, "that you rode... a Tauren... I will deny it."

We reached the far shore and I literally tossed the two of them onto the banks before collapsing into the cool mud. I rolled over, exhausted; panting, laughing, and crying all at the same time. I just let the sun shine on my mud- coated face and let the tears run down from my eyes. "We did it."

The Troll and Forsaken eventually peeked in on me. I would not have noticed, save for the shadows they cast over my closed eyes. "Yeh gween lay 'bout all a day, Sleepy Bull?"

I put my hands behind my head. "Yup. You might as well set up camp. I've earned a swim."

Johnny crouched down and handed me a small, off-white object.

I sniffed it. "Soap? Where did you...? Did you steal this from the farmer and his wife, or did they...?" I noticed my own aroma. Two weeks without a bath was one thing, but two weeks in armor without a bath was something entirely different. I smelled like a box full of dead things.

"Very subtle, Ma," I chuckled. "Very subtle."

Johnny actually grinned. With as dry as his skin was, the effect was quite ghastly, but it meant a lot to me. More than he realized, I'm certain.

# # #

We retired around the campfire that night to talk and laugh. Johnny had caught some fat rabbits, and Molthor had roasted them on sticks. I had done my part too, and worn the soap down to a little shard that I had saved as a memento.

We couldn't stop smiling, even as we popped the steaming-hot meat into our mouths.

"You may have lived as a Troll and a Forsaken, but you are both my family now." I wished we had some mead to toast our success.

"Me folk gaan be shock," Molthor teased. "Dey know 'bout dem two bwoys, an dem garl, but dey neva guess dey 'ad a Tarren an' a juju-bwoy also."

"You have a brother and sister? You've never mentioned them."

Molthor shrugged. "Mi dun know 'em good, Al'tabin grow me since mi been a li'l pickney. Been fi Zandalar one time, some year back. Me sissa got pickney fi har, now." He didn't appear particularly interested in them, and was quick to change the subject. "Yeh got bruddas an' sissas, Brick?"

I nodded happily. "There were two boys and two girls born on my year."

"Cha, dey barn a same year as you," he said, "dey nah yeh bruddas an' sissas, dat so?"

The Troll was so puzzling with regards to family. "Of course they are. The entire utankan is my family."

He didn't seem to want to press me on it. "'Ow 'bout you, Johnny?" Molthor asked.

Johnny stared into the fire a while. I didn't figure he would say anything.

He surprised me.


	62. Johnny's Tale

Episode 2: Johnny's Tale

If I lived to be twenty, I didn't think I'd ever get used to Johnny's ghost whispers. His voice was less like talking and more like a dying gasp. It wasn't so much that you heard his words or didn't hear, but the images made it into your mind somehow. You saw what he described, even if you didn't really follow how.

I saw them. I saw Johnny with his family. Johnny was young and strong. He wore his hair in a short braid, and smiled easy. He was kneeling in the simple shop that was built-on to their simple home. A wide variety of well cared-for tools were neatly arranged on the wall.

Johnny was assembling a barrel of freshly-dried oak, and laughing at his son's antics. The girl was learning to walk with her mother's help, and the boy was chasing after a toad that was trying to hide in the long grass. They both had their mother's hair; long, brown, and curled.

His wife was a beautiful and deeply religious woman. Not stern, or strict, as you might expect, but she believed that the Lord would protect them in all things.

She cooked the meals, and cleaned the home. She took them to the simple church in the simple town's center, and sang the simple hymns.

She taught the children to pray each night, before bed. The girl was probably too young to understand, but she seemed to enjoy the ritual and the quiet time with her mother.

They held their hands together, and closed their eyes. The boy recited the words he had been taught and the girl mimicked them as best she could. Her mother squeezed her close and encouraged her.

She tucked the children in and kissed them on their foreheads. She closed the door and returned to the master bedroom.

She opened her robe to the moonlight and exposed her bare body for Johnny to see. There was no appeal for me in such a skinny, hairless creature, but there was for Johnny.

Then his hands and lips were on her, and I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the memories he was sharing. He could taste her sweat. He was caressing her softest parts. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his naked body, urging him on. Her lips were on his ear... her tongue... crying out, begging for the release that only he could give her.

I started to feel dizzy and confused. This wasn't right in any way. The line between what he was telling us and my own thoughts was blurred. The emotions were right, but the sights and smells were wrong. They tumbled over and over, hot and sweaty in the moonlight. I was there, and so was Kaja.

Kaja was naked and beautiful. My hands were upon her, my lips. I wanted her so badly that I could not think straight. She was in my arms, strong and muscular. I was holding her to me. I would do anything for her. I needed her so badly.

The lovers were tumbling over one another. Human parts and Tauren parts were co-mingling in impossible and ludicrous ways. Was it my mind spinning, or were the bodies? It was a dizzying jumble of desire and lust.

Then they were apart, Johnny and his wife. They were laying side-by-side, slicked with sweat in the summer moonlight. He was out of breath, and she spoke of how she would love him forever.

I felt out of breath too. More than that, I was uncomfortable and out of place. I wanted nothing more than to run from the circle of firelight, to flee. But I I felt frozen to the spot in which I sat.

Then it was day and he was laying in bed alone, still slicked with sweat, but now woozy and ill. The children were there, beside the bed, asking if daddy would be alright.

The priest was there, saying prayers and reassuring Johnny's wife.

She tried to make him eat. She tried to get him to drink. But he was too weak, too tired. The smell of food made his tumbling stomach hurt more. He was wasting away.

Day and night and day and the dim of dusk. Everything was confusing and vague, hot and sweaty. The house smelled wrong. The fresh air had a tinge of decay.

He was out of breath again. They were tumbling on the bedsheets again. Her legs were wrapped around him.

She was crying out in his ear, begging for release. His hands and lips were upon her. Gripping. Tasting.

In some ineffable way, I was there still. It was my hands on Kaja's body, my lips on her fur, her screams in my ear. I didn't want this, but I did. I hungered for her in a way that I never had before. I needed her like I had never needed anything else. I felt the madness.

Then they were apart, Johnny and his wife. Lying side-by-side and slicked wet in the summer moonlight. He was out of breath again.

He could hear the drips. Drip. Drip. Drip. Rubies sparkling in the moonlight. Crimson drips splishing into a large puddle under the bed.

The sound was maddening; the endlessness of it.

He could feel his humanity dripping away...

Leaving him, blessedly, without conscience...

Leaving him with the final memories of his loving family...

The sound of their screams...

The taste of their flesh...

# # #

We didn't talk any more that night.

I couldn't sleep.


	63. Duskwood

Episode 3: Duskwood

We didn't talk the next day either.

I cared a lot for Johnny, and although I could never really understand what he had been through, I got the general gist of it.

The Lich King had released The Plague upon the humans and turned them into the Scourge, an army of mindless monsters. The Plague ruined not only the people, but the land too. Those that were not killed, fled in horror.

It took years before some of the undead could break free of his control, and proclaim themselves the "Forsaken". If anything, it was a mercy that he could not remember his days as Scourge. No one needs to know what sorts of things he had done during that time.

The Lich King had left some of his Scourge here in Duskwood. This was not an army. These were not his reserves. The Scourge that remained here were a residue; forgotten and aimless. They were like armed bear traps left behind by a careless hunter.

In a way, that was good. They would not be organized. They would not be looking for us. But if they found us... well, it was best not to think about that possibility.

I wanted to lead the party South, around the Scourge, but I was finding this increasingly difficult. I felt hot and irritable. I wanted to take off my armor and sling it over my shoulder.

What was wrong with me? Was it Johnny's disturbing story? Was it the lack of sleep?

No, I didn't think so. I had been fighting this feeling for a while, now. I felt distracted and fuzzy.

I really wanted this quest to be done. I didn't want to tell anyone what to do anymore. I was tired of being responsible all the time. I needed to go back to Orgrimmar, and to see Kaja again.

I know that sounds cliché, but I was finding it hard to think of anything else. I closed my eyes, and she was there. And even when my eyes were open, I found my mind was thinking about her, instead of the danger around us.

Something had to change. If I didn't do something soon, I was going to get us all killed. I was sure of that.

# # #

"Johnny, do you think you can lead us through Duskwood?"

He looked up at me with what I can only guess was surprise.

Molthor's painted face looked positively pale in the campfire's glow. "Ya t'ink dat wise?"

If anything, Johnny's story had rattled the Troll even more than it had rattled me. But I had been with the rogue longer, and I honestly believed that he had come around. I knew that I could trust him. Molthor was not quite so ready.

"I'm not sure. But if Johnny is spotted by Scourge, then they may not see him as a threat. They may assume he is one of them. Neither you nor I can pull that off."

Plus, I wanted to add, I've been daydreaming ever since we crossed the Nazferiti...

Johnny thought a long time before giving me a solemn nod. I looked to Molthor. He thought even longer than the Forsaken before nodding.

"Good." I rolled out the map. "I think we're right about here. There's a road to the South, and Raven Hill is here.

"The Alliance lost Raven Hill to the Scourge years ago, so it's safe to assume that it's still occupied. Either way, we'll need to give it a wide berth.

"Get us to that road without being spotted by Scourge, and we should be in Stranglethorn Vale in no time at all."


	64. Marriage

Episode 4: Marriage

We traveled during the day and set up camp at night. Between the long summer days and a determined pace, we were making great progress.

And from what we could see, it seemed that Johnny was doing a fine job. He would scout ahead, and then wait for us to catch up. Occasionally, he would wait at the top of a hill and signal left or right as we approached.

After three days of travel, we encountered our first resistance. Despite the care that Johnny had taken to steer us around danger, a group of four ghouls wandered right into us.

I actually did smell them coming. Ghouls stink like bloated corpses, and the stench is enough to turn your stomach. But unlike many of the Scourge, ghouls move quickly. They swing their arms in wide arcs as they run.

By the time we noticed them, it was too late to escape. They had spotted us.

Unlike Johnny, ghouls aren't so much the reanimated dead. It's more like they are living creatures that have been created from pieces of the dead. The Lich King's alchemists built the creatures for clearing out unarmed towns.

From what I could see, ghouls were equal parts teeth, claws, and appetite, but intelligence doesn't appear to be in the recipe. If you handed a ghoul a sword, it would probably put it in its mouth. They don't use weapons, and they would attack even if the enemy outnumbered them a hundred to one.

Needless to say, they were little match for three well-armed fighters.

We dispatched them easily enough, and thanked our good fortune that we had someone like Johnny to keep watch. It was easy to imagine how the fight could have gone, had they attacked while we slept.

# # #

I looked up when I noticed the Troll was speaking.

"Y'got hard ears." The campfire reflected off his blue face-paint, giving him an other-worldly look.

"I was listening! I was." I tried to remember what he had said, but couldn't. "Okay, I guess I'm a little distracted."

Molthor grinned with his eyes. I had been around him long enough now to learn his visual cues. Having large tusks changes a lot of things that you might not otherwise guess. "Dun need fi tell me 'oo ya t'inkin' 'bout. S'all ovah y'face."

I put my hands to my face for a moment, before realizing it was a metaphor. I smiled and drooped my ears in embarrassment.

"Gween wed dis garl back in Orgrimmah, right?"

"Wed?"

"Yeh, orc way a dis; ya lib togedda."

Ooh, living together. That sounded nice. I'd be able to see her every day. "Do you... do you think she'd want to?"

"'Ow mi know? Neva seen dis garl!" The witchdoctor cocked his head and stared at me. "But she gib ya dis locks 'air, dat so? Muss mean sumt'in'."

I opened the hand that was holding the lock. I held it to my nose and breathed deeply. It had been so long since I last saw her. The scent was getting faint; the hair was smelling more like my bedroll and less like Kaja.

I imagined her smile. I imagined watching her face while she slept. "I guess I'll ask her when I get back..."

Molthor shook his head. "Mi dun t'ink it work dis way. Ya s'pose fi ask har fadda, Sleepy Bull." He shrugged. "Yeh, dis righted. T'ink fi 'im say-so."

"I spoke to her dad before I left Orgrimmar. I wanted to know if I should buy a gun, but instead he told me a lot about Kaja growing up. It was really confusing." I scratched my head. "Do you suppose he thought I was asking if I could wed her?"

"Dunno. What 'im say?"

"Something about sharpening his axe, and an old maid. Oh, and that he cheated her somehow. Does that mean anything to you?"

Molthor shrugged and looked at Johnny. Johnny shrugged too.

"Well, he did say that I should talk to Kaja and spend time with her. That part was pretty clear."

Molthor smiled again and slapped my shoulder in a brotherly fashion. "Dere. Ask 'im, mon. Seem like 'im easy widdit."


	65. The Living Dead

Episode 5: The Living Dead

A few days later, we made it to the road. I'm sure it had a name at one point, but I didn't know what that was.

This was no simple cart path. It would have taken years, or even decades to cut and place all the millions of cobblestones that stretched from Moonbrook to Darkshire, and to build all the culverts that kept the rain from washing it out.

I suppose it sounds silly that I'm waxing on about a road, but seeing it really helped put the war into perspective for me. Oh, we had seen a few abandoned villages here in Duskwood, but that didn't make so much of an impression on me. My people are nomadic and we "abandon" our villages several times a year.

My people don't have any real roads, but if we did, they would be nothing like this. This was the sort of construction that civilizations undertook when they lived in the same place for centuries. When the humans left, they abandoned an entire country - not just a remote outpost, but a land where people must have lived for generations. They abandoned infrastructure and trade routes.

It was really quite grim, when you thought about it.

# # #

I felt safer walking on the Duskwood road than I had crossing over the roads in Westfall or Elwynn Forest. I figured that no men would be patrolling this land.

In a way, I was right. The patrol we encountered two days later were a half- dozen strong - skeletons armed with swords.

It was eerie fighting with such impossible creatures. They had no muscles anchored to their bones, but still they moved somehow. They charged at us from out of the darkness and I swung my axe in wide arcs, to keep them back. I caught two of them that moved too close and cut them cleanly in two.

The severed pelvises rattled around on the ground, helplessly, but the torsos did not stop. They grabbed the swords they had dropped and continued to crawl towards us. I had to take a step backwards with each swing, just to keep both sets at bay.

Johnny tried to fight them, but despite his skill, his daggers were useless against the fleshless fiends. They had no guts to spill, no arteries to open, no blood to poison, and no tendons to cut. When it was clear that he could not help, he fell in behind me, to keep out of the way.

Molthor on the other hand, was invaluable while fighting the skeletons. His magic blasted the enemy back, and tore limbs from bodies. He opened the holes in their forces, and provided the opportunity for me to get in and cut them down.

Soon, all six of them were freed from their legs, and reduced to crawling. An unexpected glee came over me and I chopped them to little shards. I chopped them until they couldn't crawl, and then I chopped them more. I couldn't explain, but the mindless violence was so liberating. I didn't want it to end.

Molthor put a hand on my shoulder and dragged me away from the pile of shattered bones. "Dey dead, Sleepy Bull."

"They were dead before they attacked us!" I bellowed at him.

"Mi sayin'," the Troll said slowly, "we clear now."

I nodded. "Clear." I stripped off my hauberk and laid down on the road.

Molthor squatted down next to me and Johnny stood nearby to keep watch. "Ya fine, Sleepy Bull?"

I nodded and closed my eyes. "I'm hot. Why is it so hot here?"


	66. Zasha

Episode 6: Zasha

The next day, we hit a fork in the road that led us South. We were home free. I could feel it.

The days passed and the trees grew denser. We began to see vines and ferns. There were birds singing here. The most we had heard in Duskwood was the unearthly calls of ravens.

"We mek in Stranglet'arn yet? T'ink we muss be." Molthor said.

I tried to find any landmarks on the map, but the more I stared, the more it looked like chicken scratchings. I handed the parchment to the witchdoctor, and he grabbed it out of my hands.

We were almost home. I was done navigating. I was done leading.

"Mi t'ink we be," Molthor said as he studied the map. "Muss be rope span fi dere Naz'friti. We see dat, den we be in Stranlet'arn fa real."

Molthor amused me. He was acting like a little calf. With each hill, he dashed to the top to try and get a better view.

He didn't seem to take much of an interest in any of the people in his life, but he was so excited about being home. Although I clearly wanted to be back for different reasons, I couldn't really blame him. If I were this close to Orgrimmar, I would be bouncing down the trail too.

"Dere! Dere!" he shouted. He dashed away and Johnny and I jogged to catch up.

There indeed was a wide rope bridge over the Nazferiti. The river was deep, and fast-flowing, through a relatively narrow gap in the rocks. Mid-way across the bridge was a Tauren woman with a wolf, fishing over the edge with a pole.

Molthor had run to the far end of the bridge and was on his hands and knees, kissing the ground. The woman waved at us and I waved back.

"Your friend sure seems happy," she said as we approached.

"He's glad to be back," I explained. "My name's Brick. This is Johnny. That's Molthor over there."

She smiled and shook my hand. "Zasha," she said, "I call my wolf 'Underfoot'." She scritched the big grey beast on its neck and it cuddled up close to her. He took no interest in either of us.

She was cute and curvy. Her fur was all-white, and contrasted sharply with her long, black mane and tail tip. Her short horns were dark, and lightened near the tips. She smelled nice.

"What are you staring at? Haven't you seen a fishing pole, before?"

I smiled at her. "A friend of mine had one, but he never showed me how it worked."

It was a fascinating gadget. She even showed me how to use it. She held her warm hand over mine and I tried to cast the line, but hook caught on my tail. Pulling the barb out was not a pleasant experience.

"It's harder than it looks," I admitted. "I think I'll stick to fishing with nets."

When Molthor got tired of waiting, he approached us on the bridge. "Mus go."

"Where you boys headed?" Zasha asked.

"Yojamba Isle."

"Juba'jin," Molthor corrected me. "Fishin' village, dis. From dere, we tek dem boat fi Yojamba."

"Okay, Juba'jin, appearently."

"Oh, I know where that is. It's about a day's walk from here. You won't make it before dark," she said.

Zasha sized up the string of fish she had strung from the bridge. "Y'know, I may have caught more than I can eat. If one of you would like to gut them, I could share..."

Molthor's jaw dropped open. I didn't need to ask him what he thought of the idea. "For a bite of fish, I would carry you to your campsite!" I told her.

Then she did the most peculiar thing. She grabbed my left butt-cheek for a moment and winked at me before heading off down the bridge. "C'mon, Underfoot, let's go," she told the big wolf.


	67. Story Hour

Episode 7: Story Hour

I hurried to catch up with Zasha and fell into step beside her. Her bright leather armor didn't match, but she didn't seem like the sort of person who would care. In fact, it seemed to suit her well.

She wore a rifle across her back, and a small hunting knife on her hip. She travelled remarkably light, without even a bedroll to her name. She had a sunny sort of the-world-will-provide personality too. With her colorful armor and bright white fur, she almost seemed to glow from within.

"So what are you doing here, in Stranglethorn Vale?" I asked.

"Hunting," she said. "There's an old kook named Nessingwary who's set up camp by the banks of the Nazferiti. He'll buy the hide of any critter bigger than a squirrel."

"So you're out here alone? What about your utankan? Where are they?"

"I'm never alone! Underfoot goes everywhere with me." She smiled her sunny smile up at me. "Besides, bulls are so infuriating this time of year. They're always fighting and showing off. Everywhere you look, they're trying to get in your face. It just makes you want to scream, you know?"

I had no idea what she was talking about, so I nodded and smiled.

"I prefer guys who are more independent, less worried about what others think of them." She kicked idly at a rock with her hoof and sent it flying. "So what are you doing out here, Brick?"

"It's a long story."

"Good." She grinned. "I like long stories."

# # #

I pulled my hauberk over my head and sighed in relief. "I've been sleeping in my armor for... I don't even know how long. It feels so good to get that off." I folded it carefully up and began unbuckling the rest of it.

"So let me get this straight," Zasha said from the log she sat on, "A human woman, whose own daughter you killed - even though you were holding her prisoner in her own home - helped sew up your wounds?"

I nodded as I put away the last of my armor.

"That's just crazy. If someone was holding me prisoner, there's no way I'd help them sew up their wounds. Forget that!" she laughed.

"Well, to be fair," I explained, "I think I was making her angry by bleeding all over her house. She probably figured that the sooner I was mended, the less mess she would have to clean up."

Zasha snorted and gripped her sides in laughter. "No way. That's funny, but I don't believe it. No one cares about cleaning that much."

"Oh no? Johnny," I said, pointing at the rogue, "before we left, what did she give you to give me?"

Johnny's creepy, air-escaping voice answered, "Soap."

"That's right, a bar of soap." I put my hands on my hips to protest her disbelief. "I slept all day in this woman's house, laying in a puddle of my own blood, stinking like a ghoul, and she gives me a bar of soap.

"Hang on!" I opened my bedroll and pulled out the sliver that I had saved.

She put it up to her nose and sniffed. "Human-made soap? You're serious, aren't you?"

I nodded and she wiped some tears from her eyes. "I'm glad I ran into you guys. I would never have believed this story if it had been told by anyone else."


	68. The Softest Fur

Episode 8: The Softest Fur

The sun had gone down and the fire was dying. The crickets were competing, trying to out-sing one another.

I laid down on my bedroll and propped my head up with one hand. Zasha was laying on her elbows, in the grass beside me. She was picking through clover, occasionally flicking one my way. It was silly behavior that made me grin.

I brushed them off the blanket, and back onto the grass.

"What did you wrap that fish in? It was so strange and delicious."

"Fadeleaf," she said with a smile. "It grows all over Stranglethorn. It's tasty, and it's full of vitamins. Oh, and if you squeeze out the oil, you can even make a few potions with it."

I wanted to ask her more about the potions, but my mind was feeling fuzzy again. I told myself I was tired from the long journey, but I didn't feel the least bit sleepy.

Zasha grabbed a big handful of clover and then scooted over close to me. She sprinkled them slowly over my head. "Such strange weather we have here in Stranglethorn," she whispered.

Her breath was hot and sweet on my face.

I eased myself closer to her and she leaned in to me. I closed my eyes and our lips met. They were so soft and wonderful.

I put my arm around her and pulled her close. Her body felt so warm next to mine.

She slid her tongue inside of my mouth. I took it gently in my lips. It was so nice. Thinking was so hard now that I didn't even try.

I slid my hand inside her untied vest, and cupped her breast. So wonderful and perfect. Her hands were on both sides of my face, softly pulling me closer.

I felt so hot. I was stripping off my clothing. I didn't need it. She was taking hers off as well. Underfoot looked up at us a moment, before yawning and curling back up to sleep.

I pulled her close and slid my hand down her back, caressing her soft fur. She put one arm beneath me and the other on one of my buttocks, gripping it tightly. She pulled her naked hips up against my own.

I was in heaven. I put my hand around the base of her tail and gripped it tight. She made a wonderful little sound, that I could not describe. She took my lower lip lightly in her teeth, and ran her tongue across it.

I rolled on top of the little, white cow and she wrapped her muscular legs around my waist. I kissed her neck and savored the soft smell of her ears.

Then I trailed kisses down her neck, to her collar bone, and to her breasts. I cupped the soft pillows in my hands and licked her nipples gently. She sat up slightly and caressed my head. Her lips were on my ear, whispering, urging me on.

I worked my way farther down, kissing her ribs, and then her stomach. I put my tongue in her belly button.

Then I scooped my arms beneath her. She put her legs around my neck. She ran her fingers through my hair, and my kisses lined her belly.

I wanted her so badly.


	69. Rut

Episode 9: Rut

"Oh, Brick!" she gasped.

"Cha! What'n bloodfiah y'two dween?" Molthor shouted.

As quick as a shot, the Troll hopped over the dying campfire and was pulling me back by my right horn.

Hrm. How do I put this?

You don't do that.

You don't grab another guy by his horns; not unless you hate having teeth, that is.

Oh, now if a cow were to do it, then that would be something totally different. If Zasha had grabbed both of my horns and maneuvered my face into a spot where she wanted it, well that would have been quite all right. In fact, it would have been far more than "all right"!

But this tale isn't about what I would have liked to have happen. Sadly.

No, this story is about what did happen; and while I'm talking about it, let me just say that I do feel pretty bad about this. Orcs probably couldn't understand just what it's like to be in rut. Oh, they may nod and grin, but until you've experienced it, you just couldn't imagine it.

When a bull is in rut, there's only two things on his mind; one is the tender little gal who's moaning your name, and the other is beating on the other bulls until your arms feel like they'll fall out of their sockets. That's it. As opposite as they may seem, those were the only two things I wanted right then.

And they were both equally appealing.

I leapt to my hooves and I bellowed as loud as I could. Zasha had to scramble away, just to keep from being trampled by 800 pounds of enraged Tauren. I would have liked to yell some obscenities at the Troll, but I couldn't form words right then. The noise that came out of me, and shook all the birds from their nests, that was the purest representation of my thoughts.

I lowered my horns at Molthor and charged.

I talk now and then about how smooth Johnny is, but I don't think I ever gave the Troll proper credit. In one single motion, the witchdoctor planted a bare foot on the flat of my face. I bucked up reflexively, and the shaman spring-boarded up high into the tree branches, like some sort of side-show act.

I crashed into the brush, but was right back out, standing under where I saw him last. "Fight like a man!" I howled up into the darkness.

I remember seeing an inky black shadow detach from the gloom overhead. I couldn't make it out until Molthor's right heel connected with my left cheek.

Then I was on the ground, shaking my head, trying to regain my senses.

I looked up to see the Troll standing by his gear, now with his staff in hand. He shouted at me, "Mi bet dey callin' you Brick caa dat all is in yeh nappy 'ead!"

I charged at him, but found only open air where he had been standing. The witchdoctor was spinning overhead with staff in hand. He brought it down hard with both hands, landing the staff's head square on the back of my left kidney.

The pain was spectacular and radiating. I stumbled as I ran. I felt groggy and it took a few moments for me to untangle my horns from a bush.

"What is it with you Trolls?" I grunted. "Why do you try to take all the females for yourselves?"

"Bloodclot! Woulda gone back fi Orgrimmah 'sif nuttin' eva happen," Molthor spat.

I charged at him and he landed the staff on my right temple. My vision was replaced with flashes of different-colored lights, and I could feel my face plowing into the dirt, eventually stopping my forward motion.

I heard him behind me, jabbering like a monkey in a tree. "Den when Kaja ask what yeh dit in de Eastlands, yeh woulda said datcha met a ready cow. Datcha hung har knickers from ya horns an' rode har 'round de campfiah shoutin', 'hi ho, Mulgore!'"

My body felt so heavy. Climbing to my knees took an astonishing amount of effort.

"Da all-seer was right. Fate put mi 'ere, Sleepy Bull. Yeh needs mi fi be right 'ere, right now."

With no small amount of effort, I stood upright and loomed over the Troll. This fight would have gone so much better if I had been wearing my armor. Any clothes at all would have been nice.

"Give me that staff," I grunted like an animal, "I'm going to stick it..."

He gave it to me all right. Right in what Trolls call the mojo bag.


	70. Sore

Episode 10: Sore

It was still dark when I awoke, but the fire had burned out.

"I hurt..." I moaned.

"Mos def," the Troll beside me sighed. "Mi 'ope yeh caa tek mi sorry some day, Sleepy Bull."

"Where's Zasha?" I asked.

"Frocked," he replied, "an' on har weh."

I groaned again and the Troll nodded. He summoned a healing totem. "Y'caa sleep wit' dis."

# # #

No one was in a talkative mood the next day.

Family can be that way. You love them, and you want to bash their brains out with a rock.

We walked to Juba'jin and hitched a lift to Yojamba Isle. Before I knew it, I was back at the sweat lodge, with shovel in hand. I looked up to see Al'tabin squatting beside the hole.

"Molthor said y'back."

I nodded. "The sweat lodge collapsed. You guys get so much rain here..."

Al'tabin put his hand on my shoulder. Even though I was rested, healed, and fed, something inside of me... something deep down in my soul was tired, broken, and miserably neglected. I was at the end of my journey, but instead of rejoicing... I just felt dead. I let my shoulders sag and the shovel fall.

"It was a very long journey," I explained.

He smiled at me in a grand-fatherly sort of way, and smiled. "I'm proud a you."

His voice sounded like one I had heard so long ago, back when I was just a calf. A familiar scent made me smile.


	71. A Scuffle With the Outriders

Episode 11: A Scuffle With the Outriders

Gorrum was not a difficult man to find. The first city sentry I asked pointed me to the Valley of Honor.

The sergeant's outriders were circled around the practice field, repeating their drills endlessly as Gorrum walked among them, yelling orders. "Again!" "Throw him!" "In the neck, not the chest!"

He saw me enter his circle and his face split open with a wide, froggy grin. "Brick!" he yelled, "I thought you had gone back to Mulgore by now."

I kept walking directly to him. Some of his men stopped their training to turn and watch. "I want to wed your daughter, Gorrum."

"Oh, do you now?" A silence fell over the field. All of them turned to watch. A few hooted and whistled in excitement.

Gorrum peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the edge of the circle.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I like her and I think she likes me too."

"Well, we'll see about this." He stripped off his boots and tossed them aside. "Put up your fists, Brick."

"I'm not going to fight you, sir." Of all the reactions I could have expected, this would be the last.

"Oh yes, you will." He put up his fists and started circling around me. He tossed a couple test punches to see how I would react.

I moved to the side a little to avoid them.

"If you want my daughter, then you will fight me. It's the Orcish way for three very important reasons." He grunted in frustration. "Put up your fists, dammit!"

He jabbed me hard in the gut and I took it. I didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not someone important to Kaja.

"First off," he said, "we have this tradition so that I can reject you. If I don't think you'd be good enough for my daughter, then I can beat on you for as long as it takes to make you change your mind."

As quick as a thought, he crossed with his left and then his right, both square to my chin. The pain burst through my jaw like an explosion. I put both hands over my mouth and cursed into my palms.

The outriders cheered him on.

"I like you, Brick. You don't have much to worry about there." He grinned at me. "I think you and Kaja would make a great couple."

He landed a heavy upper-cut to my gut. He moved really quick, and hit very hard.

I put up my open hands, not to fight him, but to ward off additional blows. "Um, thank you, sir," I grunted, not quite sure of how I should react.

"The second reason is that it gives you a chance to demonstrate your strength to me. Show me some fists, damn you," he growled. "If you want to prove that you can take care of my little girl, then you better land some punches!"

I sighed and balled my fists. I took a tentative swing at his head, but he ducked easily around it. His men booed my weak performance. "Okay, so what's the third reason?"

He kicked me in the stomach and I doubled over in pain.

"The third reason is a reminder," he whispered in my ear. "You're going to remember this beating for a lifetime," he said, "even if it takes me all day to deliver it."

He brought his knee up hard, into my left eye. Stars and streamers shot through my vision as I fell to the ground. Someone was cheering, somewhere.

"This is a tiny taste of what my men and I will do to you, if you ever hurt my baby girl."

He kicked me in the gut.

"Now get up and fight."


	72. A Little TLC

Episode 12: A Little TLC

It was early in the evening before I could make my way back to Kaja's shop.

My left eye was swollen shut, so I navigated with my squinting right. Kaja was just closing up shop for the day.

"Can I help...?" she said, as she looked up from her sweeping. "Brick?"

I can't recall what she was wearing. I couldn't take my eyes off of her beautiful face. My heart was racing and my stomach tumbled. She burst into tears and rushed to me, throwing her arms around my neck.

"Oh Brick! I thought you were dead. I hadn't heard any word in months." She was sobbing now, clutching me tight.

I held her too. Despite all her muscles, she felt so soft and warm to my touch. I couldn't remember ever holding anything as soft as her.

Her ribs throbbed with each gut-wrenching sob. "Don't cry. Oh, please don't cry. I'm alright," I told her.

"No, you're not! Look at you!" She let go and put her calloused hands gently to my face. "Why? Why is it that every time you leave, you come back looking like this?" The emotion in her voice was so pure. The pain so evident. "Where will it end?"

I shrugged and tried to smile, but I could taste a lot of blood. I was sure my teeth were stained red, so I kept them hidden.

"Come with me." She grabbed me by the hand and dragged me along, up the circular ramp that connected her shop to her apartment. Despite all the time we had spent together, I had never been in her home before. I didn't take my eyes off of her, but my blood-encrusted nose feasted on the scents.

I wish I could describe the sensation! It was like I was entering her den and the smells here were all-things-Kaja.

I could smell her, and the clothes she wore. I could smell her personal treasures, and the possessions that reminded her of Agra and Gorrum. I could smell the letter that Innkeeper Thulbek had written for me. I could smell her work and her tools from the shop below. I could actually smell her passion for the things that she built, and the business she loved.

It was like I was wrapped in a warm cocoon of Kaja-scents.

"You're such a mess..." I could see the pain on her face. I hurt, but seeing the pain she felt was the only ache I could sense.

She peeled off my vest and guided me down onto her bed. It was the most wonderful sensation I had ever felt. It was like lying on a cloud. The mattress was lined with down and I sunk deep into its depths. Soft linen cloths were layered on top, scented with... I don't know what. They smelled like Mulgore during the rain.

The smell of Kaja's hair and sweat were in the pillow. I closed my eyes and drew it all in.

A soft oilskin lined the bottom third of the bed. It held my weary feet at just the perfect angle. I thought I would melt away into sleep.

Then Kaja was at my side, wiping my face with soft cotton cloth that she had dipped in cool water. "Oh, baby," she whispered, "you look like you went through a meat-grinder."

"That's a bit how it feels too. I think his arms got tired during the beating." I chuckled a little and felt a stitch of pain in my ribs. "Mostly he hit my gut. I think he got tired of reaching up to my face. Your father's a lot stronger than he looks."

Kaja froze in place. She wore the sort of expression that would follow being hit with a club. "Daddy? Daddy did this to you?"

I nodded happily. I felt free, as light as a bird. "He said I could wed you."

More stunned silence. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Well, if you want to that is..." My heart was in free-fall. I hoped that I hadn't done all this for nothing.

"Oh, Brick!" she gasped, and wrapped her arms around me.

I buried my face into her soft neck; and it was wonderful. I kissed my aching lips to her soft fur, once, and again. "I've missed you so much, for so long," I said. "I've thought of nothing else."

She sat up and stared at me. Her ears were laid down flat, so tragic. He face was so wet with tears.

I brushed them away with my thumbs. "I thought perhaps..." It had been so long. I tried to remember the phrase. "I thought that perhaps I could take you out?"

She shook her head no, and slowly pulled her blouse up over her head. Her body was so beautiful, so perfect. I put my hands up, to pull her close.

She put her lips to my ear and whispered so softly. "No, Brick, I think we should stay in."

Then her lips were pressed against mine. Our tongues caressed one another. Our bodies were tumbling gently over and over.

The little clothing we wore was discarded. Lips and tongues, exploring and caressing. I savored the little sounds she made, as if they were the finest meal ever cooked. Pleasure, and passion, and love.

She filled my mind and my senses. I could see, feel, smell, touch, taste, and remember nothing else.

Even the beating that I was never to forget was forgotten. Kaja was my world, and her soft body was my temple.

When our muscles could give no more, we wrapped our arms around one another. Panting, dripping with sweat, and listening to each other's heartbeats, we drifted off towards a gentle oblivion of dreams... dreams of our future together.

"I will love you..." I whispered ever so quietly to her.

"Forever," she completed not just my thought, but me.


	73. Gorrum

Episode 13: Gorrum

Fall was in the air.

The leaves don't change here, but the winds shift. I was reclining in the sand with my back propped up on a small pile so I could look out across the surf.

I know it sounds stupid, but some of the best things in life are really dumb. I found that there were few things I enjoyed more than really squishing yourself into the cool sand and letting it get up under your tail.

Dumb, I know. But I could lay on the sand and watch the surf for hours.

Kaja curled up closer. I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. I breathed in the scent from her hair and grinned stupidly.

There was no denying the power she had over me. Just one sniff and everything seemed like it was going to be all right; that nothing bad could ever hurt us. I know it's a lie, but it's a lie that I grab with both hands, and I gladly ask for seconds.

Even when she infuriates me, as she often does, Kaja makes me deliriously happy.

I put my thumb and primary finger on one of her horns and gave it a wiggle. I could see her roll her eyes. She reached up and grabbed my right horn tight, and pulled my chin down to my chest, lifting some of her weight off of me.

She's so damn naughty.

I grabbed her bare butt-cheek and gave it a good squeeze. She giggled.

"I've got a patrol tomorrow. Just to the Mizjah ruins and back. Should be home by morning," I told her.

She sat up and worried at her lower lip a bit. "Crap. I'm smelting steel tomorrow. It's going to be a crazy day. Did you see how much ore the Goblins delivered?" She sighed deeply. "I'm exhausted just thinking about it."

I put my hand to her cheek and she smiled. "Every day's a busy day when you're Grom'gol's only gunsmith, right?"

She tilted her head and I closed my eyes. The kiss we shared was deep and passionate.

"Ew... kissing!" yelled a little voice over the sound of the waves. The little tan and brown Tauren boy ducked beneath a wave only to pop up behind it. "Rawr!" he yelled, making claw-hands in the air.

Part of me hoped that he would never outgrow the "monster stage". It was adorable, even if it was growing increasingly hard to come up with fresh and exciting bedtime stories each night.

"Don't you swim out too far!" I shouted. "The murlocs will get you! I've seen them do it!"

Gorrum spun around to look for signs of monsters. I wasn't crazy about naming the boy after Kaja's dad. I wanted to name the calf after Urlug or Molthor; but Kaja was right to point out that although those two friends meant a lot to me, they weren't really part of her life.

Kaja's dad, on the other hand, meant a lot to us both.

Slowly, a dead, clawed hand emerged from the surf on one side of the boy. Another dead hand emerged on his other side.

"A murloc!" I cried. Kaja put a hand over her face and shook her head.

Gorrum looked this way and that. He bleated in surprise as the hands grabbed him and slowly lifted him from the surf.

The calf struggled and his wet tail swung wildly as he tried to free himself from the Forsaken's grip.

"He's getting strong, isn't he?"

Johnny nodded at me.

"Throw me! Throw me! Throw me!" the child shrieked.

You'd never guess it by looking at him, but Johnny was a natural with kids. It probably helped that he didn't ever scold them.

He grabbed the calf by one arm and leg, and carried him near the shore. Then he swung him wide and Gorrum screamed with glee, "No! Owa! Halii!" The boy flew long and made a big splash among the waves.

"Again! Again!" I heard him sputter as he struggled to swim back to shore.

"We're both going to be busy tomorrow. Would you mind keeping an eye on the calf?"

Johnny nodded and smiled.

"But no ghost stories."

"Aw... But Johnny tells them the best!" the boy bleated.

"Absolutely not." I stood and scooped the wriggling boy up with one arm, gave him a bear hug, and handed him to his mother. She squeezed him close to her heart with her powerful arms.

They walked hand-in-hand back to out hut on the edge of the beach. Her copper anklet glinted in the sun. Even after a year together, her tail still hypnotized me.

I slapped Johnny on the back and put my arm around his shoulders. "Can you stick around for dinner?"

He nodded and I smiled.


End file.
